Mending Broken Wings
by Little Miss Bump
Summary: They knew that surviving the aftermath of the Hood's attack wasn't going to be a walk in the park, especially not for the youngest Tracy. Family bonds had to be strengthened and promises made before the Thunderbirds could again take to the skies.
1. Chapter 1: Pebbles

**_Hey everybody!_**

**_Yup, it's me, I'm finally back. Been away a little longer than I had originally planned, but family stuff has been getting in the way of my creative flow recently. _**

**_For all of you who have been with me for a while and haven't heard the news yet, I must sadly inform you that my grandma, who has been gravely ill for almost two months, passed away on February 28th. I just wanted to thank all of you who've helped to cheer me up, your support really was appreciated. And, although it's been hard laying her to rest, I think I'm okay with it now. Don't worry, your ever-energetic LMB is still the same girl she was before. She's just a little more....sidetracked._**

**_Standard Disclaimer:I do not own the Thunderbirds TV series/movie, nor any of the characters therein. All credit for their creation goes to the wonderful Gerry Anderson and his superb production team._**

**_- Just as a note, this story is an alternative (a VERY alternative) ending to the movie. I'm also gonna be tweaking the events that took place in the movie itself (the Hood's scene in particular). It starts off soon after the scene in the Bank of London, and from then onwards I'll just let the story unwind itself. _**

**_This is working off a request from my good friend Ruth, who shared my view that the movie didn't have nearly enough family/brotherly interactions in it to suit us fangirls. So, to compensate for that, I've written it the way that I think it should've been. Thanks for the request, hun!  
_**

**_Now please, read on and enjoy!_**

* * *

Jeff Tracy powered up Thunderbird 3's boosters, feeling the gentle rumble vibrate up through his body as the rocket began to ascend towards the beautiful blue skies overhead. His hands gripped the controls tightly as he gritted his teeth, self-hatred and guilt bubbling up inside of him.

_This is all my fault. I'm such an idiot! How could I have allowed this to happen?_

Amongst the turmoil of thoughts and feelings, Jeff knew one thing for certain: creating a rescue organisation had been a stupid idea. In the space of a single day, he had almost lost everything he held dear. His sons, his precious boys, had nearly been taken from him. And he had almost died right alongside them. What sort of a life had he created for his children? And then there was Alan-

Jeff felt his stomach churn as the images assaulted him, flashing through his mind and burning through his very soul as he blinked forcefully, trying to hold back the tears. His youngest son, his baby boy, had almost been killed right before his very eyes. Jeff had been forced to watch, heart in his mouth, trapped behind the iron bars of a secure bank vault, utterly powerless to save his child as Alan had struggled against the Hood's hold in an attempt to suck in another breath, hanging ten feet above the floor and choking to death.

And when the teenaer had begun to climb up onto the teeth of the Mole-

_'Alan, no!'_

Jeff closed his eyes momentarily at the painful flash of memory, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself down. He was going to end up crashing the rocket at this rate. Opening them again, he glanced down at the diagnostic panel and tried to focus on flying, attempting to push the images far back into the corners of his mind. But just as quickly as he pushed them back, others would leap forward, building up a painful accumulation of guilt and sadness within Jeff's chest. Images of Thunderbird 5 flashed before his eyes, it's shining metallic exterior rotating slowly as pieces of damaged machinery drifted aimlessly about the station. The site had been truly horrifying, the extent of the damage far worse than Jeff could ever have anticipated. And John...John had been a sitting duck. Despite having all that power and technology under his control, the young man had been utterly defenceless. And they'd nearly lost him.

Jeff's heart wrenched within him once more as the emotions from the day's events churned sickeningly within him. Before he had heard his son calling to him over the comm-line, Jeff had feared that his second-eldest had been killed during the explosion. Words could not descibe how relieved he had been to hear John's desperate and pain-filled voice filtering through the speakers on-board Thunderbird 3.

_"Uhn...D__ad! Thank...thank God. The backup generator's failed, I - I can't sustain life support much longer! Dad, I - I'm losing all power! Repeat, I'm losing all power!"_

The relief over discovering that his son was still alive had been short-lived. The moment that the Hood's smirking face had appeared on the station's main monitor, Jeff had known that they had walked right into a trap. After the immediate anger at having his home invaded had died down, Jeff had been stricken with a heart-stopping fear over the realisation that Alan, his youngest boy, was still trapped on the island with that monster. That thought, more than the knowledge that there was a good chance he and his older sons weren't going to make it, was the thing that had panicked Jeff more than anything else. Jeff could scarcely begin to imagine what his son had been going through as he fought against all odds to save his family.

_"Scott to Thunderbird Three, come in."_

Jeff was startled out of his thoughts as his eldest son's voice filtered through his earpiece. Clearing his throat and swallowing hard, Jeff glanced down at the readings on the control panel.

"Thunderbird 3 here, receiving you loud and clear," he answered automatically, pushing his emotions to the side for a moment - and only for a moment. Fatherly concern soon battled it's way to the forefront of his mind. "How're you boys doing?"

"Systems are still green, Dad," Scott replied, but Jeff could hear the concern and weariness in his voice. "Alan and I were gonna pace Thunderbirds One and Two back to the island, but Virgil's asked me to go on ahead and prep the infirmary. He wants John treated as soon as possible."

"Good idea," Jeff agreed, remembering the injuries that his second-eldest had sustained during the explosion onboard Thunderbird 5. "I'll pace 'Two back to base, you go on ahead. Are you sure you boys are okay?"

Jeff emphasised his question carefully, trying to get Scott to understand what he was really asking. He needed to know how Alan was. Although the teenager had managed a weak smile as Jeff had pulled him into a firm embrace following the incident at the Bank of London, the haunted look in Alan's eyes had worried him. He didn't know what horrors Alan had faced that day, but they had clearly taken their toll on the youngest Tracy. Jeff only hoped that the teenager wasn't badly injured on top of everything else.

_But he surely must've been hurt when he was fighting off the Hood in the bank. I could see the pain in his eyes. Dammit, I should've thought about this sooner. I should have made sure he got checked out at the rescue zone. Dammit! How the hell could I neglect him **again**?!_

"I think so, Dad," Scott replied, sighing softly. This only served to heighten Jeff's worry. Scott sounded concerned - _very_ concerned. And, although his eldest son was always fussing over his younger siblings, he only did it when there was cause to worry; which meant that something was very wrong with Alan.

"In that case, increase thrusters to maximum and get 'One back to base," Jeff instructed, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. "We'll call in when we're approaching the island."

"F.A.B, Dad," Scott replied. "Thunderbird One out."

As the call disconnected, Jeff sighed deeply, gripping the controls even harder. Anger and guilt continued to course through him as he leaned back into his pilot seat and shook his head sadly. _What have I done?_

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Alan Tracy unclenched his fists and leaned his head back against the headrest as the sound of Thunderbird 1's engines faded around him. Closing his eyes, he let out sigh, shaking his head slowly. This wasn't real. It had to be a dream - a hallucination - no, a nightmare of some sort. An exceedingly vivid, realistic and _painful_ nightmare. Because this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. Not to _his_ family. Not after what had happened to his mother.

"Alan?"

The blond teenager opened his eyes again, glancing sideways at his older brother. Scott had removed his safety harness and now sat with his body turned towards Alan, his smudged flight suit wrinkling as he bent forward, concern shining in his eyes. Reaching out, the older Tracy squeezed Alan's shoulder gently.

"You okay, Sprout?"

Alan swallowed, dropping his gaze to the floor of the cockpit. He couldn't - wouldn't - meet his brother's eyes. The level of pain and emotion they bore was enough to make Alan sick to his stomach, the sight of the expressive cobalt-blue orbs only serving to make Alan's situation all the more vivid.

Nodding mutely, Alan raised his hands from his lap, shakily unbuckling the safety harness and pushing it off his shoulders, his body numb and tingling as he moved on auto-pilot. He almost seemed to be in a dream-like state as he stood to his feet and carefully followed his brother out of the aircraft, the sound of his sneakers as they clanked softly along the metal platform somewhat dulled by the pounding of blood in his ears. He hardly seemed to feel himself anymore, his legs carrying him slowly over to the access panel on the other side of the walkway as sounds echoed around him.

The walls and floor swirled by in a blur of light, the dizzying rapidity of it all making Alan's head spin. He didn't even register that he'd stepped into the lift until it's sudden motion jolted him forwards. Caught unawares, he lost his balance, stumbling forwards slightly.

Scott, who had been running a hand wearily over his face, saw Alan topple forwards and, using the lightening-quick reflexes that he had acquired through so many years of being an older brother, reached out swiftly to grab Alan around the middle and pull him upright.

Alan had not spoken a word since they had taken off from London and, other than the occasional nod or shake of the head, the teenager hadn't made any sort of vocal response to the world around him in almost forty-five minutes.

That was probably why Scott nearly jumped out of his skin when Alan suddenly let out a pained yelp, stiffening in Scott's hold and pulling away. Something dropped to the floor with a loud '_thunk'_.

"Alan! What is it, what's wrong?" the older Tracy demanded, watching fearfully as Alan wrapped his arms around his midriff and bent forwards, panting heavily.

Alan shook his head, unable to form words. With the sharp flare of deep, throbbing pain, he had been kicked roughly back into the present, pulled from the less daunting realms of his dazed mind with a sudden and unwanted jolt.

His side hurt. His side _really_ hurt.

Blinking through tear-filled eyes, he groggily focused on a strange object that lay beside his right foot. His vision cleared and he beheld the lifeless lump. It was one of the small stones he had picked up from the beach that morning, its smooth, sandy-brown surface staring at him, seeming so solid, so resolute - and so very, very _real_.

And just like that, Alan was thrown full-force into the sickening acceptance of reality. _Oh God, it happened - it really happened._

He felt Scott's arm come around his shoulders, heard the worried calls as the pilot tried to coax a response out of him. He hadn't even noticed the lift doors opening, but suddenly he was being carefully guided through the Command and Control Centre, his feet stumbling clumsily as his legs seemed to lose their energy. Then he was being pushed down to sit upon the large couch at the far end of his father's office, the soft cushions beneath him supporting his weight as he sagged back, exhausted.

"C'mon, kiddo, look at me," Scott coaxed, crouching down in front of his baby brother and reaching out to touch the teenager's cheek gently. Alan blinked owlishly, his stunning aqua-blue eyes wide and open, showing the turmoil of emotions running around within the boy's mind. Scott's heart clenched painfully within his chest. Gripping Alan's forearms tightly, he edged closer. "Alan, talk to me, c'mon."

When he again received no response, Scott moved to sit beside the younger Tracy, wrapping an arm about the slighter frame. He could feel Alan stiffening against him, and a soft gasp of pain escaped the teenager's lips. Brains and Onaha, who had remained a short distance away from the two brothers up until this point, hastily took a step forward, their faces equal pictures of concern.

"Alan?" Scott pressed, not trusting himself to hug his younger sibling at this point in time for fear of hurting him. Instead, he softly rested a hand upon Alan's denim-clad knee, brushing his thumb over the fabric gently.

Alan clutched at his side, blinking away tears as he tried to soothe the painful throb. He hadn't really noticed just how much he hurt until now. Why hadn't he felt it before? And damn, it hurt. Something wasn't right, he should have felt something earlier. When had he injured himself? He honestly couldn't remember.

"Alan, please," Scott pressed, fear and desperation lining his voice. "Talk to me, buddy. What's wrong?"

"Ouch," the teenager croaked, figuring that this was the simplest way of summing up his present condition.

Scott's fear merely increased tenfold. "Al, what hurts?" he demanded.

Alan shook his head again, forcing himself to 'suck it up' as he roughly pushed his emotions aside, scrabbling desperately for that dazed feeling he'd felt before. He'd liked that feeling. It hadn't hurt. Sitting a little more upright, he swallowed down the bile and tried to slow his pounding heart. Avoiding the adults' worried gazes, he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," he murmured tonelessly, hating the way that his voice wavered.

"Fine my ass," Scott grumbled, the fear and concern pumping at full-force through his body. His tone softening slightly, he rested his other hand on the back of Alan's neck, much as he had done when Alan was younger. "C'mon, kiddo, I'm not buying it. I know something's wrong."

Alan couldn't take much more of this. He couldn't face Scott - or anyone - right now. He needed to be alone, he needed to think about...things. He wasn't ready to accept reality just yet. His throat was already beginning to ache as tears stung behind his eyes. He didn't even know why he wanted to cry. Teenagers didn't cry, and especially not if their surname was 'Tracy'. He didn't understand it - he should be celebrating right now. His family was safe. His brothers were alive. They'd all survived the attack.

But all that Alan could focus on was the enormity of what had happened. He hadn't thought about it before, he'd simply been acting on instinct, but the reality of his situation was that he'd almost lost his entire family. His brothers, his father, his best friends....even his own life. And it had all happened so quickly.

Scott bit his lip as he studied Alan's pale features. He was worried, not only by the lack of response from his stereotypically loud younger brother, but also by the look of pain and fear that shone in the teenager's eyes. _The kid's been through too much. He's only fourteen, for Pete's sake, he's not supposed to face this kinda stuff. How could I have let this happen?_

Wrapping an arm about Alan's shoulders again, he carefully helped his little brother to his feet. "C'mon," he murmured. "Let's get you down to the infirmary."

Alan shook his head mutely, but Scott ignored it. Whether Alan liked it or not, he was going get checked out by Virgil when the medic arrived back on the island. Turning towards Brains, the pilot flashed the older man a weak smile. "Could you look after Command for me? Al and I need to get the infirmary ready."

Brains nodded, stepping forwards and putting a hand on Scott's shoulder. "D-d-sure thing, Scott," he replied softly, his eyes flickering over to Alan's downcast features. "I'll send your father down when he, uh, g-gets here."

Nodding his thanks, Scott guided Alan out of the Command and Control Centre, steering him slowly down the corridor. Alan seemed so small and fragile against him, and Scott strengthened his hold, brotherly protection at maximum efficiency. The Hood and his goons might have departed hours ago, but Scott wasn't about to let the kid out of his sight. Alan needed him - and dammit, Scott needed the kid, too.

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Virgil pushed the hover-stretcher in front of him, Gordon and Jeff keeping up with his swift pace as he guided John down the corridor and towards the infirmary. He could practically feel the concern that radiated off his father's form as the Tracy patriarch walked beside him, the older man's eyes constantly flickering over John's body. The astronaut had fallen unconscious in Thunderbird 3 on the way to the accident scene in London, his body unable to battle the exhaustion any longer. And, although John's blow to the head had worried Virgil, the young medic knew that the concussion wasn't serious enough to require any immediate emergency treatment. John would benefit more from sleep than from anything else as far as his head injury was concerned. It was the small gashes on his arms and the large burn on his back that would require the most attention.

But Virgil knew that he had more than one patient to worry about. Brains had contacted him and told him that something was wrong with Alan. He hadn't specified what, he had simply stated the Alan's ribs seemed to be_ "causing him a g-great deal of p-p-discomfort"._ This information had frightened Virgil more than he'd let on. Alan would _never_ show his pain to anyone - at least not unless it was _really_ serious - as the teenager considered it to be a sign of weakness. Virgil only hoped that Alan had made an exception to the rule this time. He really couldn't cope with having another brother badly injured, especially - especially not his kid brother. Alan was too young for this, he didn't deserve it. It simply wasn't fair.

Jogging alongside the hover-stretcher, Jeff ran a hand through his hair. He was almost frantic with worry, and it was taking all of his inner strength not to show it to his sons. He should've known that Alan had been injured in the bank. He should've done something about it sooner. It was all his fault.

_Oh Lucy, I'm sorry. I put our baby in danger. I promised I'd take care of him, and now look what I've done? He nearly died, Luce, my little boy was nearly taken from me! Please, Lucy, don't let this happen. He can't be too badly hurt. It's just bruises and scrapes like the rest of us have. It's nothing - internal. Oh God, please don't do this to me._

Practically running the last few metres, ignoring his the protests from his own bruised muscles, Jeff was the first to arrive at the doors to the infirmary. As they slid open before him, his eyes immediately locked onto the form of his youngest son, his heart wrenching painfully within his chest as he caught sight of the withdrawn posture and downcast expression. Alan sat on the bed on the far side of the room, Scott perched beside him with an arm wrapped protectively about the teenager's shoulders. The younger boy made no reaction to his brother's presence, his eyes distant and glassy as he stared at the floor.

Walking swiftly across the room, Jeff stopped directly in front of his youngest child and carefully wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders. He felt Alan start in his embrace, stiffening slightly, before the smaller form slowly sagged against his chest, seeming to lose all energy in an instant. Leaning his head down, the Tracy patriarch exhaled heavily and closed his eyes, planting a soft kiss in the blond mop of hair atop Alan's head. His baby was still there. He was still alive. He'd made it.

Jeff shot Scott a grateful smile as his eldest son hopped off the bed, moving over to help Brains, Virgil and Gordon in transferring John onto the second infirmary bed. The Tracy patriarch glanced over at the small group momentarily, before carefully pulling back and regarding his youngest child with a worried expression upon his face, his hands gently squeezing Alan's shoulders.

"Are you alright, son?" he asked softly, keeping his voice low enough for only Alan to hear.

Alan swallowed to ease the ache in his throat, dropping his gaze to his lap. He didn't trust himself to speak right now. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he constantly fighting tears? He hadn't cried - or at least _properly_ cried - in almost a year. And the last occasion had been out of happiness, when he had cheered with the rest of the crowds as Gordon accepted his gold medal and grinned over at him from his position atop the podium.

"Alan?"

Alan jumped slightly, brought sharply from his own thoughts and back into his painful present predicament. Raising his head slowly, he peered up at his father, the pain and sadness in the Tracy patriarch's eyes causing his throat to tighten painfully.

"Are you alright?" Jeff repeated. Alan swallowed again, the blood pulsing loudly in his ears as he felt the tears prick at his eyes again. Dropping his gaze once more, he gave a slight shake of his head, too tired to fight the truth anymore. Dammit, he just wanted to go to sleep and forget about what had happened to him over the last seven hours. He wanted to erase the painful memories. He wanted to wake up to discover that none of this had happened.

"What did ya do to yourself this time, Sprout?"

Alan glanced up again as Virgil stepped up to the bedside, his cheery 'doctor' expression in place. Even with the convincing smile and light-hearted tone of voice, Alan knew that Virgil was worried about him. He still looked and sounded like Virgil, but it was clear that he was pretty shaken up about - everything. Alan sighed. _But who isn't? After all, it's not everyday a total psychopath breaks into your home and tries to murder your family._

Alan's heart clenched painfully again, and he looked away, willing his brother and father to just leave him alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brains and Fermat standing on the other side of the room, the taller genius' arm slung around his son's shoulders. Onaha and Kyrano stood slightly behind them, next to the door, Tin-Tin sheltered in between them as they looked over at Alan worriedly. And with Gordon and Scott watching him like hawks from John's bedside-

And just like that, the room became too crowded. Alan wanted to be somewhere - anywhere - other than in the infirmary. He wanted to find a spacious, solitary place - like the beach - where he could just sit down and think. He felt like a specimen being studied and scrutinised by his spectators. It was beginning to make his head spin.

Virgil regarded him silently for another moment, before clearing his throat and turning around to address the occupants of the room.

"Guys, I'm gonna need space to run the x-ray on John's arm. Would you mind stepping outside for fifteen minutes or so?"

Onaha, Brains and Kyrano nodded, understanding the family's need for a little privacy.

"I'll go make us all something to eat," Onaha stated quietly, guiding her daughter out through the infirmary doors. Kyrano and Brains nodded in agreement, offering their services as they followed the Malaysian woman out into the corridor.

As he was being gently lead away by his father, Fermat shot his best friend a worried look - and although Alan tried to smile, he didn't actually succeeded in doing so. As the doors slid closed, Alan sighed slightly in relief and closed his eyes. His whole body felt numb and unresponsive once again, like he wasn't in control anymore. The only thing keeping him grounded to the present was the fact that his ribs were hurting like hell and his stomach was churning uncomfortably with a cold, sickly feeling. He just hoped he wasn't about to hurl all over the place.

"Dad, why don't you go change out of your flight suit and come back here in a few minutes?" Virgil suggested. Having changed into civvies on the way to the island, Virgil had no need to do so now. "The guys'll follow in a sec, I just wanna talk to them about something."

Jeff frowned slightly, glancing between the medic and his youngest son. A light of understanding dawned in his eyes and he nodded slightly, reaching out to gently run a hand down Alan's arm. However much it killed him to leave his boy for even a minute, he understood that Virgil had a better chance of getting an answer out of Alan at the present time. Jeff knew that, on occasions, his youngest son found it easier to open up to his brothers than to his father. And Jeff honestly didn't mind who he opened up to right now, as long as they found out what was wrong with the silent teenager.

Catching hold of Virgil's wrist, he took the medic over to the opposite corner of the room, turning them to face the wall and dropping his voice to a low murmur in order that Alan wouldn't be able to hear him.

"If he's injured himself in any way, it was probably when the Hood threw him against the wall," he stated, hating the worry and fear that suddenly shone in Virgil's widened eyes. "I'll explain everything later, son. Just - just don't push him too hard, alright? He's been through a hell of a lot today. Far too much for a kid his age."

Virgil nodded tightly, reaching forwards to squeeze his father's shoulder. "Just give us five minutes with him," he replied softly. "If he wants to open up, he will. I think I already have a good idea what's wrong with him. From the way he's holding himself, and from what you've just told me, he's probably bruised a rib or two. With any luck, he won't have fractured anything."

Stepping back, Virgil turned towards Alan's bed and shot the younger boy a warm smile. Alan returned it somewhat shakily, and Virgil felt his heart soar. If Alan was able to smile, it couldn't be too serious. Waiting until his father had left the room, he slowly walked back over to where Alan sat. He came to a halt in front of his brother, reaching out to squeeze his arm gently.

"Okay, kiddo, they're gone," he smiled. "Now spill."

Alan managed to meet his brother's gaze, relieved that Virgil wasn't being overly 'smotherish'. But how the heck was he supposed to 'spill'? So much had happened, he barely knew where to start. What did Virgil want him to say? The turmoil of thoughts, feelings and emotions within him were far too confusing and personal to describe right now. He needed time to think before he opened up. A very _long_ time.

Virgil, noticing Alan's difficulty, brushed his thumb over the short sleeve of the teenager's T-shirt and elaborated, "Where abouts are you hurt?"

Alan was unable to look away from the warm, tender honey-burnt eyes that were gazing at him steadily. Swallowing, he twisted his hands together absently. "My ribs kinda smart," he stated quietly, feeling a little of the fear and pain ebb away as Virgil sent him another smile.

Gordon suddenly popped up beside Alan on the bed, grinning cheerfully. "Honestly, Sprout, can't you do _anything_ without injuring yourself?"

Alan turned to look at the prankster and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. The world around him seemed to brighten somewhat as he sensed the familiar pattern of playful teasing begin to set in. He immediately felt his nerves ease. Why the heck was he so on edge? His brothers would understand. They always did.

"C'mon," Scott added, stepping up to Virgil's side and smiling warmly at his younger sibling. "Let's take a look at the damage."

Gordon grinned, swinging his legs to and fro over the edge of the mattress and ruffling Alan's hair gently as Scott reached out to lift Alan's shirt. "Hey Sprout, d'you wanna know something useful? There's a hidden bonus in being molly-coddled by these two," he stated lightly, pointing towards his older brothers with his free hand. "They're always within kicking distance, see? So, if they really start to pi-"

He froze, the words dying on his lips as he eyed the massive blue-black bruise that lined Alan's right side, stretching from the lower part of his ribcage and down his hip, disappearing beneath the hem of his jeans.

"Holy shi-" he began, only to break off with a yelp as Scott reached over and cuffed him automatically around the back of the head. Glaring daggers at his eldest brother, he closed his mouth and returned his attention to his younger sibling. Alan winced as Virgil reached out to run his fingers gently over the bruise.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" the doctor inquired softly, concern shining in his eyes. Alan shrugged, wincing again.

"A little," he admitted. "But it's nothing, Virge, it's just a bruise."

"Maybe so," Virgil agreed absently, allowing Alan's shirt to fall back down. "But I'm not taking any chances. I'm just gonna run a few x-rays, okay?"

Alan nodded mutely, again lacking the energy to protest. What was the point? Virgil would win anyway, he always did. Leaning his elbows on his on knees, he bent forwards to push the heels of his palms into his eyes, sighing heavily. He still wasn't quite willing to accept what had just happened to his family. It all seemed like a blur now, a distant memory, something that had happened long, long ago. But that wasn't right. Not two hours ago, he'd been hanging from a walkway in the Bank of London, the Hood's smirking face looming over him as the Mole's high-pitched whir sounded beneath him, the sharp teeth mere inches from his dangling feet.

Alan felt the bile rising once more. Taking in a shuddering breath, he tried to hide his distress, biting down on his lip as more tears pricked at his eyes. He hated himself for being so weak, for not taking it like his brothers were, for being the only Tracy son who couldn't keep himself together. Man, he was pathetic.

Dropping his head into his hands again, he scrubbed at his eyes. He had to pull himself together. He was a Tracy, dammit! His family was the Thunderbirds! Why couldn't he just suck it up like the rest of his brothers?

_'Because I'm not like the rest of my brothers,'_ Alan thought numbly. _'I'm just a pathetic teenager. I'm not even a Thunderbird. No wonder Dad didn't want me on the team, look what nearly happened? A few more seconds and Thunderbird 5 would've hit the atmosphere, and the guys would be-'_

He shoved the thought roughly to the side, feeling even more nauseous than before. Why was he doing this to himself? He wasn't pathetic, he'd managed to save his family before it was too late. They were here, on earth, alive. He, Fermat and Tin-Tin had done it. What was his problem? It was like he _wanted_ to be seen as a failure. He didn't understand what was wrong with him.

"Al?"

The blond-haired teenager jumped again, wincing as the movement jarred his sore muscles. Glancing up, he noticed that Virgil had wheeled the large portable x-ray machine to his bedside, and was now standing just in front of him. The young doctor smiled.

"Now comes the fun part, Sprout," he stated sympathetically. "Where you get to lie in total discomfort on top of _this_," he held up a large, rectangular board, "for five minutes, whilst I snap pictures of you. Sounds great, huh? But it'll be over before you know it. Just keep real still for me, okay?"

Alan nodded mutely once again, allowing Virgil to help him swing his legs up an over the side of the bed. Once he had Alan lying flat on his back, the thick (and cold) board placed beneath him, he picked up the control and took a few paces back. Although the x-ray machine automatically absorbed any excess electromagnetic waves, it was still better to be safe than sorry.

After what felt like an eternity of discomfort, Alan was finally allowed to sit upright. And he did so - but just a little too quickly. Grunting in pain, he put a hand to his side, grimacing as he bit his lip. Scott was at the bedside immediately, concern and worry shining in his eyes.

"You okay?" he inquired, reaching out to squeeze Alan's shoulder. Alan nodded, trying to hide the pain as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, hopping down carefully and making a lame excuse about needing to go to the bathroom.

Well aware that all three of his conscious siblings were watching his every move, he made his way stiffly over the the infirmary bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. Walking over to the window, he reached up to open it, wincing as even that single, small movement stretched the muscles in his right side. Pushing the window open as far as it would go, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply as a cool evening breeze hit his face.

Evening? Was it really evening? Yes, he supposed it was. They'd arrived back on the island just after six, so it was probably nearing seven o'clock now. If his watch had been working, he would be able to confirm his theory. But the gadget had been cracked when the Hood had slammed Alan into the wall, and now the screen was too badly damaged to read the numbers. He'd have to ask his father for another one later on.

Pushing aside the blinds and leaning his forehead against the cool glass, Alan sighed heavily. He wished he could forget. He wished he could rewind time and the start the day all over again. He'd do things differently and, somehow, he'd stop the Hood from causing so much damage in London. He'd stop the madman from putting a massive black spot on the Thunderbirds' name. He'd stop Thunderbird 5 from being so badly damaged and, consequently, prevent John from getting hurt.

But he couldn't do anything right now. Everything was in the past, and no amount of wishing would change that. But dammit, it couldn't prevent him from wishing that it had all just been a terrible dream.

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Jeff stepped back into the infirmary, having grabbed a quick shower, a clean change of clothes and a cup of coffee to keep him going. Glancing around the dimly-lit room, he frowned slightly. Virgil had drawn the drapes and dimmed the lights to a lower setting, darkening the room considerably.

"Dad?"

At Virgil's hushed whisper, Jeff looked sideways and spotted his middle son standing at John's beside, data-pad in hand. John, who slept propped up by pillows on his side, was breathing softly, his face relaxed and peaceful. At some point, Virgil (or one of the other boys) had changed him into a pair of blue pyjamas, and he looked a good deal better than he had done in his ripped and torn flight suit.

Virgil put a finger to his lips, pointing at his older brother. Stepping around the bed, he approached Jeff silently. Only when he was on the other side of the room did he raise his voice to a low murmur.

"I sent Gordon and Scott to get changed and grab a bite to eat," he stated. "They needed something to do to distract them from....you know....things."

Jeff nodded in understanding, reaching out and putting an arm about Virgil's shoulders. "Good call, son," he stated. Then he paused, glancing around the room. "Where's Alan?"

"I sent him off to shower and change into his PJs," Virgil stated, leaning into his father and sighing heavily. "He's pretty roughed up, Dad."

Jeff felt his concern spike again. "His ribs?"

Virgil nodded. "From what I can tell, he's bruised at least three of them. One of the lower ones could have a small hairline fracture, but it's hard to tell. I'll need a second opinion on that one. I'll get Brains to take a look at it later. When the kid gets back, I'll bandage up his ribs and keep him in overnight for observation. He's exhausted, so I doubt he'll put up much of a fight."

Jeff turned his worry-radar onto Virgil. His middle child seemed to be coping with things fairly well - far _too_ well, in fact. "Virge, are you alright?"

Virgil paused, before shaking his head softly and looking down at the floor.

"No," he replied truthfully, sighing as he ran a hand through his chestnut-brown hair. "But I will be. Right now, I just wanna make sure the guys are alright. That's the most important thing."

Jeff smiled at him proudly, hugging him tightly against his side as he had done when Virgil was younger. "That's my boy."

Virgil sighed again, his gaze drifting around the infirmary as his mind buzzed over the events of the day. After a short silence, he turned his head towards his father and asked the question that had been poking at the back of his mind for several minutes now.

"How bad's the damage?"

Jeff chewed his bottom lip for a moment, before shaking his head and letting out a heavy puff of breath. "The damage to 'Five is gonna take at least a couple of months to repair," he stated. "And both 'One and 'Two received minor damage. And although Onaha and Kyrano, bless them, have managed to clear up most of the mess in the house, a few things are gonna need repairing or replacing. I have a feeling that Gordon's gonna be particularly upset when he finds out that Kyrano's drained both the pools."

"Oh boy," Virgil deadpanned. "We're screwed."

Jeff smiled and nodded mutely, although there was actually a certain degree of truth behind his son's words. Gordon used swimming as his outlet whenever he was upset or stressed. Without a pool, Jeff's second-youngest would soon crack. And it had been years since Gordon had done that. The redhead would just have to find another way to release his stress. And even if it meant that the teenager pulled every prank under the sun, Jeff didn't mind. His sons were alive, and for that he would be eternally grateful. Against all odds, they had survived the onslaught of the Hood's attack. But now came the hard part for all of them, particularly for Alan:

The recovery.

* * *

**_In the next chapter, how is Alan coping with his ordeal? Will he lower his shields and accept his brothers' help, or continue to shut out the pain and fear and withdraw into himself even more? Find out next time!_**

**_Yup, this stories gonna have a number of chapters to it. I haven't finished the layout yet, but it's looking to be five or six chapters, probably. I intend to take it up to my own little version of the party (the original ending of the movie, but with a difference). And yes, a number of the scenes I will be referring to did not actually feature in the movie. But, as requested, I have decided to re-write the ending of the 2004 film, because it sucked. If you got a problem with that, that's fine! Feel free to yell at me, I can take it. Lol._**

**_And look CC, Phx, Lissy, Ruthy....I torture Alan for you! I hope you're happy. It kills me to hurt him and not to hurt Virgil instead. (Man, I sound psychotic again!) I'm really not that cruel. Honest!_**

**_See you on Monday/Tuesday with the next update! Please review!_**

**_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	2. Chapter 2: In Waking Or Sleeping

**_Hiya!_**

**_Wow, thanks for all the fantastic reviews! I was truly flattered by the response, and reading all your comments certainly brightened up my otherwise dull week. College work is fun from time to time, but endless past exam papers for homework can drive a girl barmy! But _****_I'm glad to see that people are enjoying the story so far. _**

**_I hope everyone had a great weekend (I sure did, we had glorious sunshine non-stop for the first time since October!). And now, as promised, I have the next chapter ready and posted for your reading pleasures!_**

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

Alan winced as he walked down the corridor towards the infirmary, holding his right side tenderly as the muscles throbbed painfully. He was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He felt weak and lost, like he just wanted to sit down right there in the corridor and cry. And the fact that his ribs burned with every step didn't exactly help matters, either. _Damn, this hurts._

"Alan!"

At the sound of his best friend's call, the blond teenager came to a halt, turning around slightly and looking over his shoulder. Fermat came jogging up to his side, a worried expression upon his young face.

"Are you al-alright?" he demanded, pushing his thick-lensed glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, noticing with concern the way that Alan held onto his side carefully.

Alan nodded, beginning to walk down the corridor once more. "Virgil says I've bruised a few ribs," he stated quietly as Fermat matched his slow pace. "But I'm alright. What about you?"

"I'm g-g-gr-f-f-" the boys stuttered hurriedly, before sighing and dropping his gaze to the floor, shaking his head slowly. "I dunno, Al. I - I guess I'll be okay."

Alan came to a halt again, turning to regard his best friend with concerned eyes. Fermat looked truly exhausted. His normally bright eyes were dulled, his energetic posture more slumped and weary than normal. In short, the smaller teenager looked like crap.

Slinging an arm around Fermat's shoulders casually, Alan pushed his own turmoil of emotions to the side, momentarily forcing a smile onto his face.

"Cheer up, Ferm. The Hood's going to jail and we managed to save our families. Everything's cool now, right?" he stated, even as his own heart laughed bitterly at the obvious lie. "Hey, you look beat. I know it's not even eight o'clock yet, but why don't you go to bed? I think we both need some rest. It's kinda been a long day."

Fermat shook his head. "Nah, I p-probably won't be able to sleep," he sighed. "I - I think-" he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I'm gonna go find my dad. I'll see ya later, okay?

Alan forced another smile onto his face, nodding tightly. "Yeah, sure," he replied, hating how falsely cheerful he sounded. As Fermat turned and began to walk back the other way, the older teenager massaged his sore ribs once more and shook his head sadly, the smile vanishing in an instant.

_Even Fermat's messed up. That's probably my fault, too. If I hadn't been such as asshole, he and Tin wouldn't have been caught so soon. Huh, some best friend I am. I can't believe I made fun of his stutter, what sort of pathetic loser am I? **He** was the one who swiped the guidance processor, **he **was the one who contacted Thunderbird 5 via the satellite, **he **was the one who helped Brains hack into the system and bring the station back online. And what did I do? I just screwed everything up...big time. If it wasn't for Fermat, my family would be dead! Oh God, they - they'd be dead. All of them._

Feeling his throat tighten once again as tears blurred his vision, Alan reached up and angrily wiped a hand over his eyes. This shouldn't have happened to his family, it wasn't fair! All they ever did was save lives, putting their own at risk every single time they went out on a rescue mission. And _this _was what it got them. Alan wished his dad had never built the Thunderbirds in the first place, he wished that they'd just been allowed to lead normal lives like the rest of mankind.

Suddenly, being a Thunderbird just wasn't as appealing as it had once been.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The weary semi-consciousness of his aching mind latched onto the presence of a new entity. Sounds babbled around him, churning within his sluggish brain, prodding and poking and pulling him towards the land of the living, away from the pain-free comfort of nothingness that had once surrounded him.

"...concussion...damage...superficial...treated his burns, but...rest...time."

John frowned slightly - or at least tried to - as he heard the muffled voices begin to invade the peaceful darkness of his mind. It sounded as though he was underwater, the noises around him dulled and smothered by the strange rushing of blood in his ears. And boy, did his head hurt. What on earth had happened?

Curiosity spiking, John fought his way through the thick fog that seemed to surround his mind and latched onto the voice that was coming from somewhere nearby, getting louder with each passing second as he approached consciousness. The words were clearer now, becoming distinguishable above the dull '_thud'_ of John's heartbeat.

"I dunno, Scott....I guess it depends how badly this whole thing affects him," the speaker was saying, their tone steady and somber. "I won't know for sure until he regains consciousness again. The concussion wasn't serious, but all of his combined injuries have taken their toll on his body."

_Virgil? _John inwardly frowned again at the familiar voice. _What's he on about? Is he talking about me? What happened, did I get hurt on a rescue or-_

Then, like a slap in the face, the memories came flooding back to him. The missile, the explosion, the Hood, Thunderbird 5 slowly losing orbit and spinning towards the atmosphere, the feeling of grim acceptance as the oxygen meter went down to zero - it had all been real. It hadn't been a nightmare after all.

Wrenching his eyes open, he sucked in a sharp breath as the light burned at his stinging eyes, trying to focus through the pain in his head on some sort of identifiable object. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't on his back, as he had first assumed. He was lying on his left side, pillows pressed against his chest and behind his shoulders. And his right arm felt trapped, as though it were stuck in one position, unable to move. He couldn't even see it, such was the angle he was lying at.

"John?"

A blur of colour appeared in front of him, before his vision was suddenly filled with the wobbling image of his younger brother's face. Virgil's eyes shone with worry and concern, pain scorching through right to the depths of the honey-burnt orbs. Even with his own body throbbing with pain, John felt the familiar brotherly concern begin to bubble up inside of him. _Something's wrong. What happened? What's wrong with me? What am I doing here?_

"Hey," John croaked, blinking heavily and taking in a shaky breath as he tried to control his emotions. "How long have I been out?"

Virgil's face relaxed a little, and he momentarily looked over John's head, nodding slightly. Returning his attention to his patient, the doctor reached out to lay a gentle hand upon John's shoulder.

"A couple of hours," he stated. "You passed out in Thunderbird 3 just after we left the station. We didn't even realise you were unconscious until we'd begun our final approach to London."

John frowned again. _London? Why were we in London? The last thing I remember was leaving the station. I felt so dizzy, like I couldn't breathe, and nothing was making sense. There was too much light and sound and noise, and then - well, I guess that must've been when I passed out. What's happened since I lost consciousness?_

"Do you remember any of it, John?" a new voice inquired softly.

John started, wincing as his body protested the movement. _When did Scott get here? _The older Tracy had bent down level with Virgil, the two brunettes momentarily confusing John as he blinked rapidly, thinking that his vision was beginning to double. Focusing on Scott's features, he swallowed forcefully as he was hit with a flash of memory - he could see Scott's soot-smeared face leaning over him, encouraging him gently to keep awake as Thunderbird 5 smoked and sizzled around them, the smell of acrid smoke burning the back of John's throat.

"Johnny?" Virgil murmured, leaning in closer, a worried frown tugging at his brow. "How much do you remember?"

Shaking his head to rid himself of the sudden memories that had invaded his mind, John closed his eyes. "Pretty much all of it."

"John!"

Wrenching his heavy eyelids open again, John felt an almost child-like relief flooding through him as his father's face appeared above Scott and Virgil's heads. Jeff reached out to smooth his hair back, the familiar gesture soothing the astronaut's nerves as he allowed himself to relax. He was safe. He was home. They'd made it. But what had happened since he'd passed out?

Hating himself for ruining the moment, he blinked heavily and locked eyes with his father. He simply had to know the truth.

"The Hood?" he inquired softly.

Jeff's face clouded over immediately, and John wished that he hadn't asked. However, the expression lasted for only a few seconds, before a shaky smile graced the Tracy patriarch's tired facial features.

"He's being taken to a secure prison facility," Jeff replied, his voice slow and gentle, almost as though he were talking to John as a young child. "He won't be able to hurt anybody else."

John closed his eyes, feeling his rapid heartbeat beginning to lessen.

"You look like crap, d'you know that?"

Cracking his eyelids open, John focused his gaze on his copper-haired younger sibling, who had appeared magically out of nowhere in typical Gordon fashion. Managing a small smirk of his own, John cocked an eyebrow wearily at the playful insult, refraining from comment. His heart grew lighter as Gordon's manic grin widened to infinite proportions. At least some things hadn't been affected by the day's events. But one small thing kept prodding at the back of his mind. He had a bad feeling - a feeling that something was wrong, something exceedingly important.

"Where's Alan?" he asked suddenly.

Jeff, Gordon, Scott and Virgil exchanged brief glances, and John immediately felt himself waking up, all traces of exhaustion vanishing in a single instant as fear settled into the pit of his stomach. Trying to push himself up on one arm, he frowned worriedly.

"What's wrong with Alan?" he demanded.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Virgil soothed, reaching out to hold him down, even as John's head began to ache. "Easy, Johnny. Don't move, just lie still a minute, okay? The Sprout's pretty shaken up, but he's gonna be alright. He bruised a few ribs, that's all. It's nothing serious. He left a little while ago to grab a shower, but he should be back in a few minutes. It looks like you're gonna have some company in here over the next couple of days."

John didn't like that answer one bit. It wasn't the content that had worried him, it was the flash of pain in Virgil's eyes as he'd said '_pretty shaken up'_ that had implied the real message. Oh yes, something was definitely wrong with his youngest brother.

John tried to push himself upright once more, but stopped as a sharp, burning pain seared across his back, forcing a gasp to make its way past his lips and echo in the silence of the room. Jeff immediately reached out to steady him, his large, warm hands carefully pushing him back down against the pillows, one coming up to rest against the side of his neck.

"John, you need to lie still," he said soothingly, his tone gentle but firm. "I know you want to help your brother, but you're in no condition to do anything right now. The best way to help us is by helping yourself, alright? Just concentrate on getting yourself better, we'll take care of everything else."

John nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain and shifting uncomfortably as his back throbbed again. _I've always managed to avoid injury before, but - well - I guess I wasn't so lucky this time. Man, this hurts._

"John, I'm gonna give you a shot of morphine, okay?" Virgil stated, pushing back the sleeve of John's right arm - which, the astronaut noticed, was held in a support sling, explaining the odd, trapped sensation he'd been experiencing. However, that wasn't what was bothering him right now. It was one specific part of his brother's statement that had struck fear into his heart. The word '_shot_' carried the greatest threat known to John-kind. John had a _major_ phobia of needles.

"Virge, I'm fine," he said hurriedly, cursing himself for not being able to keep the pain out of his voice.

Virgil gently wiped the area of skin with disinfectant. "It'll be quick, man," he soothed. "Just count to five."

John held his breath and closed his eyes, already feeling the bile begin to rise as the room became uncomfortably hot and cramped. The tips of his fingers grew cold and began to tingle, his head spinning alarmingly. Dammit, he hated feeling so weak and pathetic. He knew that his fear was irrational, he'd always known that. His body, however, seriously disagreed with him. The sudden, sharp prick in his arm made his blood run cold, and he felt an icy, sickening knot begin to work its way up his chest.

_'Just count to five', he says. 'It'll be quick', he says. Damn needles. Man, this sucks..._

"See? That wasn't so bad," Virgil murmured gently, having noticed the sudden pallor of John's skin. He dropped the needle back onto the metal trolley at the bedside and pulled off his gloves, reaching out to lay a hand on John's shoulder. John looked up at him through blurry aqua-blue eyes, and Virgil smiled softly.

"The meds are gonna kick in pretty fast," he stated quietly. "So don't worry if you start feeling a little disorientated. Just close your eyes and get some sleep, Johnny. I'll be here when you wake up if you need anything."

John nodded, feeling his eyes already beginning to drift closed. He wanted to see Alan, he wanted to speak to him, to make sure the kid was alright. But, in truth, what help would he be right now? He was far too exhausted to think straight. He'd probably only make matters worse. No, Virgil was right, he needed to sleep. But come morning, he'd set things straight with Alan. Dammit, when was the last time he'd even spoken to the kid? Apart from the occasional call he'd received when Alan was in a particularly cheerful mood at school, he hadn't really spoken to the teenager in months. Alan's holidays never seemed to coincide with John's time on earth. It had been far too long, he realised, since he'd ruffled the younger Tracy's hair. That was going to be the first thing he would do when he saw his younger brother. After, of course, he'd hugged the life out of the kid.

_Well - that might not be physically possible right now, since I'm kinda....stuck._

"Relax, son. Just rest now."

His Dad reached out and gently ran his fingers through John's hair, and the astronaut allowed his eyes to slide shut completely, feeling the powerful pull of sleep on his body. Images flashed before his mind's eye again, and he roughly shoved them to the side, scrabbling to grab hold of something less daunting, something to keep him focused on the present. _I'm here. The guys are alright. We survived. The Hood's gone, we're safe. And I'm home - home at last._

And with those comforting thoughts, the second-eldest Tracy son drifted off into a dreamless, drug-induced slumber.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Gordon sighed deeply as he saw John's breathing beginning to even out. Virgil picked up a hand-held scanner and began to run it over John's body, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on his work. His posture appeared lighter, less tense than it had been earlier that evening. The medic was clearly pleased about John's level of response. And, in all honesty, Gordon was equally as happy about it. At least now he knew that John was on the road to recovery. That was one weight off his mind.

But still, he couldn't help but worry about the rest of his siblings. Sure, Scott and Virgil seemed to be coping well enough, but still....after what they'd been through...he just didn't know anymore. He himself was trying his best to push the memories to the side, focusing instead on cheering up the rest of his brothers. That's how he usually got through stuff like this. He just had to focus on everybody else instead of on himself.

It was like being - how could he put it? Like being selfishly unselfish, if that made any sense.

_Who cares if it makes sense? If it works, it's good for me. _

His main concern at the moment was his younger brother. Alan had barely spoken a word to him - or, in fact, to anyone - since they'd arrived home, and even the smile he'd managed to give Gordon earlier on that evening had been small and rather forced. The light and energy was gone from his usually bright and expressive blue eyes. They seemed glassy and distant, almost lifeless. And that just wasn't Alan. Gordon had never seen the kid like this before, not even after his hydrofoil accident.

_What the hell happened to him while we were stuck up in space on that damn station? The kid looks like he's been to hell and back again. What did that - that psychopath do to him? Dad seems to know more about it than we do. Maybe something happened at the bank that we don't know about. Right, I'm gonna have to talk to Dad about that later on. I need to know what's up with the Sprout. I need to make things right with him. _

Gordon frowned to himself, scrubbing a hand through his short copper hair and sighing deeply. _I've been such a jerk lately. I can't believe I brought up the thing about the chemistry lab - and on his first day back home, too. I was just being stupid, still running on adrenaline after the rescue, I - I just didn't think! Dammit, what if we'd all died up there? Alan would've been left with the memory of me being a complete asshole! I should never have said that to him. But I'll make it up to the kid. I don't know how, but I'll make it up to him. Where'd he go, anyways?_

As though in answer to his thoughts, the doors to the infirmary suddenly '_hissed_' open, and Alan walked slowly into the room. Dressed in pyjama shorts and a long blue T-shirt, the teenager looked completely exhausted. Gordon saw for the first time just how small his younger brother seemed at present. And he had _that_ look in his eyes. That frightened, lost expression that Gordon hadn't seen in years. And this worried the copper-haired aquanaut more than anything.

_He really isn't coping with this, is he? Well why should he? He's just a kid. He's not supposed to face this kinda stuff, not at his age. What the heck am I supposed to do? Somehow, I don't think pulling a prank is gonna help him right now. This is way beyond my control. I don't know how to help him, I just feel so - so totally useless!_

Jeff looked up as he heard the doors opening. Spotting his youngest son, he immediately straightened up, the relief at having seen John awake vanishing in an instant as he beheld the weary and pale features of the blond-haired teenager.

"Alan," he said softly, moving away from John's bed and approaching the smaller Tracy. Wrapping an arm about Alan's shoulders, he peered down at his boy and smiled warmly. Alan tried to return the smile, but ended up failing miserably. Instead, his blue eyes flickered over to John's snoozing form, pain and worry gathering in the aqua-blue depths as he beheld the older Tracy.

"Is John gonna be okay?" he asked timidly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Jeff felt his throat tighten at how vulnerable and small Alan seemed against him. What had happened to the head-strong, rebellious teenager who had blown up in his face only the day before? The fight and energy was gone, replaced instead by something that Jeff wished with all his heart he could eradicate. Fear.

"He's gonna be just fine, Sprout," Virgil replied gently, pausing momentarily to look over towards the teenager. "He sustained a nasty burn on his back and a mild concussion, but they'll heal with time. And the hairline fracture along his humerus won't even require a cast, as long as he's careful and wears the support sling for a few weeks. But he'll be back to his usual self in no time."

Alan nodded mutely, indicating that he'd heard the information. But the pain, sadness and fear did not fade from his eyes. Jeff regarded him worriedly, his gaze jumping between Virgil and his youngest as the medic nodded his head towards the bed on the other side of the infirmary. Jeff tightened his hold around Alan's shoulders and carefully guided him over to the empty bed.

Once seated, Alan seemed to snap out of his dazed state, blinking heavily as he gazed at his surroundings, almost as though he were noticing his location for the first time. His gaze flickered up to look at his father, and Jeff held it steadily, reaching out a hand to rub Alan's shoulder. Staring into Alan's eyes, he felt something connect between them, his fatherly instincts drawing him closer to his child. He needed to do something, _say_ something, to keep that link strong.

"You alright, son?" he asked softly, searching Alan's face keenly, trying to determine how best to get through to his boy.

Alan opened his mouth and took in a shaky breath, seemingly wanting to say something. Pain and sadness flashed across his eyes, before the teenager shrugged, dropping his gaze and breaking the fragile connection completely. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'm fine."

Jeff worried his bottom lip with his teeth, his eyes scanning Alan's downcast face worriedly. He wished he could say something - do something - to make things better. He wished he could brighten up Alan's world with a hug and a smile, just as he had done countless times throughout the boy's childhood. But this was different. This - this was way beyond his control. He could do nothing but offer his support, and pray fervently that something would bring _his_ Alan back to them.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Tracy patriarch spotted his first-born son silently communicating with Virgil, their expressions clearly getting the message across to each other. Virgil's gaze flickered over to him, locking with his own steadily, before returning to Scott's face. Scott crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, his posture screaming that all-too-familiar '_make me' _line that his eldest son had been using since the age of three.

"I think I'm gonna go check on Fermat," Gordon said suddenly, breaking the silence. As Jeff watched, the redhead latched onto the back of Scott's shirt, yanking him over towards the infirmary doors forcefully. "C'mon, Sally, let's go."

Virgil shared a smirk with his younger sibling, and Jeff felt a small smile of his own tug at the corners of his mouth. Trust Gordon to keep up the moral. He was glad to see that his second-youngest hadn't lost his sense of humour. It was something that had only happened a few times before, and for differing reasons, but it was never an enjoyable experience. Not to mention the fact that the rest of the family seemed to lose their energy whenever Gordon stopped cracking jokes. He supplied the humour for all of them.

"Right," Virgil sighed cheerfully, swiftly pushing a second trolley over to Alan's bedside and snapping Jeff out of his own thoughts. "Let's get those ribs of yours wrapped up, shall we?"

At Alan's small nod, Jeff reached out to help his son remove his T-shirt. Carefully pulling the garment up, he had to force himself to keep his face neutral as the large blue-black bruise came into view. It was a sizable mark, covering a large proportion of Alan's right side and curving half way around his back. _Man, that looks painful. I can't believe I let that - that **monster** hurt my son! If I ever get my hands on that son of a-_

"Ah!" Alan hissed suddenly, the sound echoing in the silence of the room even though was barely above a whisper. The teenager sucked in a breath, stiffening and clutching at his side as a pained grimace formed on his face. The T-shirt hung off one shoulder, momentarily forgotten as Jeff put a hand between Alan's shoulder blades, rubbing soothingly.

"Just breathe slowly, Al," Virgil advised gently, resting a hand on Alan's arm. "I think you tried to take your shirt off a little too fast, huh? Your ribs are pretty bruised there, kiddo. You're gonna have to take things easy for a few days, alright?"

Alan nodded again, his jaw set as he exhaled slowly through his nose, straightening up gradually and removing his hand from his side. His eyes still bore that distant, haunted look; the one that tore at Jeff's heart as he beheld it. Were things ever going to be the same for his teenage boy? In one day, Alan's life had been turned completely upside-down. Jeff only hoped that he had the means to put things right between them, to bridge the gap that had formed in their relationship.

"Does this hurt, Sprout?" Virgil inquired tenderly as he began to wrap the elasticated bandages around Alan's midriff. Alan shook his head, his jaw set firmly as he refused to meet Virgil's gaze. The medic shared a glace with his father, his hands pausing in their task as he regarded his younger brother keenly. "You sure?"

Alan nodded his head mutely, and Jeff caught a glimpse of a turmoil of emotions as they flitted across the downcast eyes, before the glassy appearance returned once more. Jeff sighed inwardly. He didn't know what to do. Alan was clearly trying to shut out the rest of the world, but why? _Probably post-traumatic stress. Dammit, this shouldn't be happening to him, it just isn't fair. Lucy, please - tell me how I'm supposed to make this right. Everything seems so daunting and out of control right now. How am I supposed to pull us outta this? And as for the Thunderbirds-_

Jeff stopped, mentally slapping himself as his heart lurched within him. _Darn! International Rescue! I forgot to tell Lisa to announce that we're going offline. Dammit, I'd better do that before I make any more calls. I've already spoken with the UN secretary, and she's leaking the news to the people who need to know the truth, so the worst part's been taken care of, I hope. But the press are gonna want an explanation, too. And it'll have to be soon, we can't have people speculating over whether or not the members of International Rescue have turned into criminals overnight. Lisa's always put in a good word for us before, I know we can count on her to do it again. I'll get Penny to speak to her later. _

Jeff glanced over at John, his eyes taking in the battered appearance guiltily. _We're in no condition to go out on a rescue right now, anyway. And even if the machines hadn't been damaged and the boys hadn't been hurt, I wouldn't have the heart to put them through that again. We're gonna need time to think things through. And maybe - I don't know - maybe International Rescue should stay offline permanently. I can't force my sons to continue if they don't want to. And honestly, after what happened today - after what happened to my boys - I'm not sure if I want to, either._

Jeff stood at Alan's bedside, thoughts and feelings tumbling erratically though his mind as he watched Virgil tenderly wrap the bandages about Alan's bruised ribs, talking to the teenager constantly as he worked. It wasn't until the young doctor finally dropped the spare materials down onto the trolley that Jeff snapped back into the present.

"There you go, kiddo," Virgil smiled, picking up Alan's T-shirt and helping his younger brother to carefully put the garment back on again. Alan avoided eye contact the whole time, his gaze drifting down to his lap or across the room as he slowly maneuvered his arms into the sleeves. Once done, the smaller Tracy scrubbed a hand wearily over his face and let out a soft sigh.

Jeff saw the exhausted expression and rested a hand on the back of Alan's neck as before. "You feeling tired, son?"

At Alan's nod, Virgil pushed the trolley to the side and leaned over to pick up a glass of water that was waiting on the bedside table.

"Drink these down first, and then you can go to sleep," he instructed, opening his hand and revealing two small, white pills. Alan raised his eyes to meet Virgil's at last, gazing at him suspiciously. Virgil had to smile at that. "They're just to help with the pain, Sprout. I'd give you a shot, but I figured that you might as well take it by mouth, since you need the fluids in you anyway. I don't want you getting dehydrated."

Alan sighed again, slipping the medication into his mouth and downing the water swiftly, before reaching out and handing the glass back to his older brother. Gordon suddenly appeared at Virgil's side, having reentered the room unnoticed, and grinned at Alan cheerfully. He leaned against the side of the bed, eyebrow raised as he glanced down at his watch.

"It's not even eight yet, Sprout," he grinned. "This has gotta be the earliest you've gone to bed in years. But hey, a little extra beauty sleep might be beneficial. Might help you attract more of the opposite sex, ya know what I mean?"

Jeff shot his copper-haired son a look, and Gordon shrugged innocently in response. However, the look turned into a grateful grin as Alan cracked a weak smile, shaking his head at Gordon's light-hearted teasing. Jeff felt his heart soar once more, just as it had done with John earlier that evening. So maybe things would be alright after all. The boys fed off each other's energy, that much was obvious. Jeff just hoped that Gordon didn't burn himself out trying to cheer up his siblings.

"Alright, son," Jeff smiled, helping Alan to lie down on the bed and pulling the blankets over him. "Get some sleep. I'm gonna need to slip out for a little while, but I'll be back to check on you later, alright? I just need to make a few calls, clear up a few things. And Tom's already messaged me demanding to know what the hell's going on."

Jeff had to smile as he said that. His closest friend, Dr. Thomas Palmar, had always considered the Tracys to be his family. Having worked with Jeff on-board the NASA space station during their earlier years together, he viewed the father of five as being his brother, and the Tracy sons as being his adopted 'nephews'. So naturally, having heard the news reports about the Thunderbirds knocking down the monorail, digging a massive hole in Jubilee gardens and trying to break into the Bank of London, the doctor had been rather...curious...as to why the heck his best friend seemed to have totally lost his mind. And boy, Jeff sure wasn't looking forward to explaining this one. It would probably take him all night.

As Virgil dimmed the lights above Alan's bed, Jeff perched on the side of the mattress and ran a hand through his youngest son's hair, feeling guilt bubble up within him once more. He wished he could do something to change the past, wished he could reverse time and somehow prevent the Hood from hurting his children. But there was nothing he could do now. He just had to be there for his sons as they came to terms with what had happened. And Jeff prayed that it would happen soon; he couldn't bare to see Alan acting so withdrawn, so distant.

Although, come to think of it, he and Alan hadn't exactly been close over the past year or so - as much as Jeff hated to admit to it, it was true. Teenage stubbornness and Tracy hard-headedness had caused Alan to challenge him constantly, creating a massive chasm in their relationship; a chasm that Jeff had been unable to cross in recent months. He'd had more aguments with his youngest son over the last nine months than he'd had throughout the rest of Alan's life put together. And it killed him now to feel so pathetic - so utterly _useless - _as he watched Alan slipping further and further away from him. He just hoped that he could mend their relationship somehow.

"Go to sleep," he whispered softly, feeling Alan's body relax beneath his touch as he smoothed the blond locks down flat, brushing a few stray strands off the cool forehead. Alan was still there. He was still alive. Jeff hadn't lost him - yet.

_And I won't lose him. If it's the last thing I'll do, I'll make this right. For both his sake and for mine, I'll set things straight. I promise you, Luce, I'm not gonna let him go._

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Tin-Tin Belegant sat on the end of her bed, gazing steadily across the room at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the door of her closet. Her pyjama-clad image seemed almost alien to her, her own body a total stranger as she continued to stare at the mirror in silence. She locked eyes with herself, the fingers of her right hand reaching up to grip onto her necklace tightly as she studied her features, flashes of memory protruding through the chaos of her mind.

Her uncle - the Hood was her _uncle_. His powers were identical to hers - admittedly, they were a good deal stronger and more developed than her own, but they were still the same. She'd sensed that from the very first moment. And he'd wanted her. He'd envied her powers, envied how even her young mind was strong enough to use and control the so-called 'gift' that ran through her veins. Her powers, he'd wanted them for his own. Because she was so very much like him. She and the Hood shared a certain something - something _inhuman_. He'd seen that, and she'd felt it too. She'd felt his power, read his mind - just as he had hers.

It wasn't right. She'd never been able to do that before. She'd never felt such power within her, consuming her mind and body and threatening to take control.

_I'm a monster._

Anger and frustration bubbled up within her, pulsing through her veins like fire. Standing up, she yanked the necklace over her head roughly and drew her arm back, throwing it across the room at her reflection with an agonised cry. She watched it's progression groggily, hearing the loud '_thunk'_ as it connected solidly with the mirror. It landed on the floor, unharmed and uncharged, smirking at her in a sinister fashion. She stumbled backwards, feeling sick to her stomach, the back of her legs hitting the bed suddenly and making her jump.

Sitting down again, Tin-Tin tried taking steadying breaths - in through her nose and out through her mouth, just as her father had taught her to do. She tried to push away the thoughts and feelings and memories that swirled around within her. But she couldn't. She wasn't strong enough to fight the tears that stung behind her eyes, and they began to pool, spilling over the edge and cascading down her cheek, the hot liquid seeming to burn against her flesh. Leaning forwards, she buried her face in her hands, no longer holding back as she allowed the grief and pain to consume her.

She didn't know how long she sat there, sobbing into her hands - it could have been hours, minutes, or perhaps even seconds - but the next thing she knew, the mattress was dipping beside her and a familiar perfume was overwhelming her confused senses.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Then the comforting arms enveloped her, and the Malaysian girl turned sideways to lean into the embrace, burying her head into her mother's shoulder as she sobbed. She wanted to hold on to the older woman and never let go, to be held protectively in the haven of her embrace forever. Here, she was safe. Here, no monsters could get to her.

"What is it?" Onaha inquired softly, her hand smoothing down her daughter's soft, black her. "What is wrong, sweetheart?"

Tin-Tin let out another sob, pushing herself deeper inside her mother's field of protection. "I don't want it anymore," she croaked tearfully. "I don't want to be like him."

Onaha closed her eyes, realising what her child was referring to. "It will be alright, little one," she murmured, trying to keep her own tears at bay as she held her only daughter close to her chest. "Everything will be alright."

"But I'm a monster!" came the tear-filled reply, filled with despair and sadness. Onaha gripped onto her child even tighter, resting her chin atop the soft hair and swallowing to ease the ache in her throat.

"Listen to me, Tin-Tin," she said, gently but firmly. "You are nothing like the Hood, do you hear me? _Nothing_. He is not part of our family. We have each other, _he_ has no-one. And what you did today showed your true heart. You are good, my child. Good and courageous. His heart is black. His soul turned to stone through greed and hate long, long ago. He ceased to be your uncle the moment he turned against your father."

Tin-Tin sniffed, turning her head to look up into her mother's eyes. "I could read his mind," she whispered fearfully. "He wanted - he wanted my powers, Mom. He wanted _me_."

"Then he is a fool," Onaha replied instantly, her voice strong and determined. "Because I would not have let him take you. No power can come between us, sweetheart, not unless you wish it to. And the bond between a mother and her child can never be broken, remember that. You are mine, as I am yours."

Tin-Tin smiled at the familiar phrase. "You are mine, as I am yours," she murmured in reply, feeling her stinging eyes begin to grow heavy.

Onaha kissed her daughter's forehead gently, humming a lullaby as she rhythmically rubbed Tin-Tin's back. The teenage girl relaxed fully into her embrace, allowing the song to wash over her as the emotions from the day took their toll on her body. As she began to drift off, her mind wondered sluggishly over what had happened in the Bank of London. The desperation she had felt when Alan had been hanging by one hand from the platform still echoed in her soul, the fear and protectiveness surprising her once more. Her views about Alan had changed that day. She'd seen past the moody teenager, past the false bravado. She'd glimpsed at who Alan Tracy really was beneath the surface, sensed his emotions in a way that she'd never done before.

He had been nothing more than a boy. A lost boy who'd wanted more than anything to save his family, to set things straight, to make things right for everybody. The cover of his book was certainly very different than its contents.

Carefully, Onaha stood up and guided Tin-Tin towards the top end of the bed, pulling back the light covers and helping her daughter settle down beneath them. Leaving the bedside for a moment, she walked over to the opposite end of the room and bent down to retrieve her child's necklace. Holding it carefully in her hand, she returned to Tin-Tin's side. Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, Onaha gently pressed the object into the teenager's palm, closing the fingers over it and squeezing lightly.

"You are not a monster merely because you posses these powers, dear one," she said softly. "Your father has gifts like yours, but he is no monster, is he?"

Tin-Tin shook her head, fingering her necklace carefully. Onaha smiled and continued.

"You should not fear it, sweetheart. It is a part of you. Long ago, your father learned to embrace that. And he is a good man. The power itself does not affect the person you are. It is what you choose to do with it that will define you. The Hood used his powers for great evil, but you have only ever used yours to help others. And, one day, you may be forced to use them again. But do not fear, my child. You will _never_ be like him. Never."

Tin-Tin blinked through her tears, glancing across at the object in her hand and regarding it in a new light. Although the crystal itself contained no power, it had always been the focus with which she could control her gifts. Without it, she wouldn't need to worry about using her powers ever again. But her mother was right, she _had_ used her powers to help others that day. Alan would surely have died if she hadn't-

Closing her eyes, Tin-Tin slipped her hand beneath her pillow, releasing her tight hold on the necklace before withdrawing her arm and sighing, feeling the slight pressure against the side of her head as the object rested beneath her cheek.

Onaha smiled softly, feeling a sense of pride at her daughter's actions. Reaching out, the mother resumed her lullaby, gently tucking the blankets around her child's body and running a hand over Tin-Tin's hair. The teenager opened her eyes again, gazing up at her protector steadily.

"Mom?" she asked softly. Onaha stopped humming momentarily, glancing down into her daughter's hazel eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Tin-Tin swallowed heavily. "D'you think Alan's gonna be alright?"

"Scott says that his injuries are not serious," her mother replied, her bracelets jangling softly as she reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "He said that Alan just needs time to heal."

Tin-Tin bit her lip. That hadn't exactly been the answer she was looking for.

"But you speak of his emotional state?" Onaha guessed, sensing the true depth of the question. "That, my child, is something I cannot tell you. This day will have affected him, of that we can be certain. But to heal, he must first allow himself to be healed. Until, like you, he comes to terms with what has happened, I fear that he will only draw further into himself."

Tin-Tin looked up at her mother, worry shining in her eyes. "And what about the other guys? And Mr. Tracy? Won't they be angry with us, because-" she paused, swallowing again. "Because the Hood's Dad's brother?"

"Half-brother," Onaha corrected softly, before shaking her head and smiling. "No, my dear. Mr. Tracy loves us as part of his own family, he has said so on countless occasions. And he has such a kind and caring heart. He is worried about your father, I can see that." The older woman averted her gaze and glanced towards the window. "I worry for him, too."

Then the Malaysian woman cleared her throat and smiled again, cupping Tin-Tin's cheek and brushing her thumb over the olive skin gently. "But for now, do not worry," she stated. "For our family is safe, and we are together once more. And now sleep, my little one. The sun will shine brighter in the morning. You will see."

Tin-Tin nodded, closing her eyes and feeling the pull of sleep on her body. Onaha watched her for several minutes, humming softly until Tin-Tin's breathing had evened out, before standing to her feet and heading silently from the room. Stopping in the doorway, she turned and regarded her sleeping child for a long moment, feeling her heart ache. She had almost lost her daughter that day. She had almost lost her five boys, too. But her daughter had taken the first step on the long and hard road to recovery. The healing process had begun.

But for Onaha's boys, it was a different matter. She prayed that they would soon join Tin-Tin on her journey, or else she feared that the family would never fully recover from the ordeal they had endured that day.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Alan rolled over onto his unbruised side, hissing through his teeth. He stilled his movements, facing the door as he opened his eyes and gazed about the room. With both Scott and Virgil absent, he no longer needed to feign sleep. He had no idea how long he'd been lying there, pretending to snooze as emotions and memories tumbled around in his mind - but in truth, it felt like an eternity. His body was utterly exhausted, but his mind was still far too alert, keeping him awake against his will. Oh, how he wished he could just slip into the land of dreams and forget about everything that had happened that day.

His father had left hours ago - or at least he _guessed_ that it was hours ago. He honestly couldn't say for certain. _He's probably still talking to Tom. Maybe that's a good thing, Tom always manages to keep Dad calm. And after everything that's happened to us today, Dad probably needs it. I mean c'mon, he and the others nearly died! _

Alan closed his eyes, hating the way that his stomach clenched uncomfortably. He wanted to puke. The cold, hard facts kept prodding at him, making his chest tighten and his head spin. It still seemed too terrible to be true. He'd almost lost everyone, his whole family. He'd almost lost his best friend, the one person who'd kept him grounded and sane throughout his time at school. And his brothers...what would he have done if he'd lost them? They were such a central part of his life, he simply couldn't imagine life without them there, teasing him and caring for him in the way that only brothers could.

But, had things happened just a little differently that day, Alan would never have seen any of them again. Ever.

Tears came to the teenager's eyes once more, and he turned his face into the pillow, blinking them away furiously. _Stop it, stop doing this! That isn't what happened, dammit, stop thinking about what might have been! I'm just being stupid. The guys are still here, they made it. Why the hell do I keep thinking about something that didn't even happen?!_

Clenching the covers tightly in his right hand, he slipped his left arm beneath the pillow, clutching it firmly and pressing it closer to his face. Moving it to the right to find a cool spot on the soft fabric, he sighed deeply, gazing across the room at his older brother in the dim light. John looked peaceful as he slept soundly (just as Alan was supposed to be doing), his chest rising and falling steadily as he lay on his side, propped up by pillows on either side of his body. Above him, the diagnostic scanner flashed rhythmically, recording John's heartbeat. Each flash was a reassurance, a sign that Alan's brother was still alive, that he was going to be okay.

But Alan just couldn't persuade himself to see things that way. All that he could focus on was the flashes of memories that tore painfully through his consciousness, burning behind his eyes and filling his mind with dread and fear and self-hatred. He remembered so vividly where it had all started, he could see it as though watching it on a screen in slow motion - the wind blowing the kicked-up sand as Fermat came sprinting down the beach towards him, panic written across his face.

_"Alan! Tin-Tin! Th-thunderbird 5 has been hit! Thunderbird 5 has been hit!"_

That's when things had started to go so terribly wrong. The fear that had slammed into Alan's gut with those words was truly indescribable, even worse than the dread he had felt when he had first been told about Gordon's hydrofoil accident. Alan had known, he'd known right then that something was wrong - that something terrible was about to happen. He'd felt it. And then, when the Hood's submarine had surfaced near the beach-

_Near the beach......the sub...._

Alan's blood suddenly ran cold, his stomach seizing up as he sucked in a sharp breath. The world seemed to freeze around him as an icy-cold horror crept up through his chest and spread out to the tips of his fingers. His heart thudded within him, threatening to shatter his ribcage as it beat with an incredible strength and ferocity, fear pumping through his veins at full force.

_Oh God, no. How the hell could I have forgotten?! The sub, it - no, no this **can't** be happening! _

It was still there. It had to be.

They were all in serious danger.

* * *

**_Dun-dun-duh!_**

**_In the next chapter, will Alan's fears be well founded, or is he panicking needlessly? Will the brothers be able to calm the youngest Tracy down after the most recent fright? And will Alan, emotionally and physically exhausted, finally be able to open up to his family? Find out next time!_**

**_Yup, the Queen of 'nasty-cliffies-that-really-get-on-your-nerves' is back! Get over it. Lol._**

**_Thanks for reading. Please make my week a little more lively and REVIEW! I love to hear from you, and I promise I won't bite. All concrit and advice is very much appreciated, and a big thanks to all those who pointed out typos and grammatical errors in the previous chapter. I owe ya one!_**

**_See ya next week! (Or maybe this Saturday, depending on how busy I am.)_**

**_Bump xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	3. Chapter 3: Headaches and Heartaches

**_Ta-daaa!_**

**_I'm back! And I'm on time! ('gasps') C'mon, tell me how impressed you all are. :^D_**

**_Another huge thank you to all those who reviewed the previous chapter, I'm pleased that so many people are enjoying this story. Yes, the last chapter DID end on a bit of a cliffhanger, huh? But you still love me, I know you do! Lol._**

**_Well, as promised, here's the next installment. Enjoy!_**

* * *

Alan was well aware of the fact that his breathing was beginning to quicken as the panic and fear pumped through his body, churning around in his stomach and pushing the bile further up his throat.

_Oh God, no. How the hell could I have forgotten?! The sub, it - no, no this **can't** be happening!_

He couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. He was frozen in utter terror, his mind reeling in fearful disbelief, his limbs unresponsive as he sucked in loud lungfuls of air. He dimly registered a flare of yellow light as the infirmary doors _'hissed'_ open. However, he was in too panicked a state to pay any heed to the new arrival until the lights in the infirmary were brightened a little and soft voice cut through the tense silence.

"Alan?" the speaker called. "You okay, Sprout?"

Alan couldn't reply, couldn't even form coherent speech as his heart continued to pound within his chest. He saw Virgil move towards him, his face a picture of concern as he swiftly made his way to the bedside. The medic leaned over him, setting his stethoscope down on the bedside table and scanning Alan's features with piercing honey-burnt eyes.

"Al? Alan, what's wrong?" he demanded worriedly, concern lining his voice as he reached out to lay a gentle hand on Alan's shoulder. With the touch, Alan was startled out of his panicked state, thrown once again back into the present with a painfully sharp jolt. Grabbing onto Virgil's outstretched arm, he gazed up at his brother with desperate eyes.

"Virge! Virge, the submarine, what happened to it?" he asked fearfully, his voice sounding strained and panicked.

Virgil looked momentarily stunned. "I - what? What submarine, what are you talking about?"

Alan felt his fear increase tenfold. "Virge, the Hood, he - he had a submarine! He - I - Virge, is it still there?"

Fear had now crept into Virgil's eyes. "I don't know, nobody told me anything about a-"

"I've gotta tell Dad!" Alan exclaimed, pushing himself upright and ignoring how his side screamed in pain. He began to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but Virgil grabbed onto him tightly, pushing him back into position and pressing him down gently but firmly against the mattress.

"Alan, calm down," he instructed, his hands gripping onto the younger Tracy's shoulders as the teenager tried to sit up again.

"You don't understand!" Alan pressed, desperation now emanating from his struggling form. He vaguely registered an increase in light intensity from somewhere behind Virgil as the infirmary doors 'hissed' opened again, but his churning emotions were too strong to allow his mind to think logically - his whole being was entirely focused on the need to warn his father about the immediate danger they were in.

He grunted, shaking his head as he tried once again to push against his brother's hold. "We've gotta find it! Virge, let me up, I need to warn Dad!"

Suddenly, a second pair of hands were pressing down on Alan's body, gripping at his arms. Scott's form loomed over him, worry and fear shining in his eyes as he tried to stop his younger sibling from hurting himself further.

"Whoa, Alan," he soothed. "Easy, buddy, just calm down. What's wrong?"

"The sub, it's still - they're not - we - we gotta find it!" the teenager cried, using an unknown strength to push himself up on one arm.

Scott took a firmer hold of Alan's arm, the other hand clamping down on the younger Tracy's leg to prevent him from moving off the bed. "Alan, calm down," he instructed, a more forceful tone underlying his voice as the commander within him made its way to the surface.

"Scott, get off me!" Alan protested breathlessly, still struggling against the two stronger men as panic took total dominance over his rational side. "I've gotta tell Dad!"

Virgil glanced over at his older brother, confusion and fear burning in his eyes. "He keeps babbling on about the Hood having a submarine," he stated worriedly, using as much strength as he dared to hold his injured brother down. "What the hell is he on about?"

A light of understanding dawned in Scott's eyes, and he returned his attention to the struggling teenager beneath him.

"Alan, it's alright, the sub's gone," he stated reassuringly, his voice softening. He bent down closer, his hands gripping just a little tighter as Alan pushed up against him again. "Just relax, kiddo, everything's alright. You're safe."

"No!" Alan protested breathlessly, shaking his head in desperation. His brothers didn't know that, how could they possibly know that, they'd been stuck up in space all day! The submarine was still out there, Alan could feel it. It was somewhere along the shoreline, circling the island and waiting for a chance to attack them again!

Noticing that Alan wasn't showing any signs of calming down, Scott released the teenager's leg and reached up to cup his younger brother's cheek gently with one hand, forcing the panicked boy to look at him.

"Alan, listen to me," he instructed, slowly and clearly, his tone soft but firm. "Brains contacted the WASP base the moment we arrived home - they've been tracking the sub ever since. They caught up with a vessel that matched Tin-Tin's description about twenty minutes ago. By the sounds of it, it's the same sub that you saw. They've apprehended it, Alan. It's alright, it's over. Nothing's gonna get us, you hear? Nothing."

Alan felt his breathing begin to slow as he stared into the impossibly deep cobalt-blue eyes above him. As he stopped struggling, Virgil released the firm grip on his shoulders and straightened up, breathing heavily as he regarded Alan with a worried expression. Scott merely smiled softly, brushing Alan's hair back from his sweaty forehead with gentle fingers, the concern still burning in his eyes.

"Man, Sprout, you sure know how to scare a guy," he stated fondly, his voice shaking slightly as he reached over to the controls on the wall beside him so that he could brighten the lights above Alan's bed.

Alan didn't reply, finding that talking was suddenly a difficult task to achieve. As the panic receded, the immense sense of weariness and weakness returned, overwhelming his exhausted body. His throat became impossibly tight, his chest growing heavier by the second as he fought against the tears that wanted to spring to his eyes again. Dammit, he was gonna cry. He just knew it.

"You want something for the pain, Sprout?" Virgil asked tenderly, rubbing Alan's shoulder gently.

Alan closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling, shaking his head ever so slightly. Despite the bone-deep throb that pulsed through his injured side and down his back bruised back, the pain he felt in his heart was easily ten times worse. He gritted his teeth and held his breath, fearing that a sob would escape his lips otherwise. _Please, just go. I wanna be left alone. I can't cope with this, dammit, I just can't cope any more!_

"You sure?" Scott murmured softly, running his fingers through Alan's hair, frowning worriedly as Alan sucked in a quick, shallow breath. "You don't look so good, kiddo. D'you want something to help you sleep?"

Alan shook his head again, willing his brothers to depart so that he wouldn't have to fight against his emotions anymore. The effort to do so was utterly draining, and he didn't know if he could keep it up much longer. He was swiftly losing control. Rolling onto his left side, facing the door again, he slipped an arm beneath the pillow and pressed it against his head, trying to block out the rest of the world, wishing desperately for solitude so that he could release his weakening hold on the haywire emotions within him.

"Alan?" Virgil pressed slowly, his voice lined with concern. There was a short silence - a heavy, tense silence - before he spoke again. "I'm gonna get Dad."

Alan squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. _Dammit, no! Just leave me alone!_

"Virge, wait."

Alan stilled himself once again, squinting through half-closed lids at his eldest sibling as the tall figure came to stand in front of him - Scott having rounded the bed at some point so that he could see Alan's face. Closing his eyes against the tears that were still trying to escape, Alan almost jumped when he felt a large, warm hand settle on the side of his neck, the thumb brushing over his skin gently. He tried to swallow down the lump that now became lodged in his throat, the emotions bubbling up within him at the tender touch.

"Alan?"

The teenager peered up at Scott, locking eyes with the warm and understanding orbs of his elder brother, finding himself unable to look away. Scott bent down so that his head was level with the mattress, gazing at Alan steadily.

"D'you want us to get Dad, Sprout?" he inquired gently.

The blond immediately gave a slight shake of the head, feeling all of five years old as Scott ran a hand down his arm, regarding him worriedly. The ache in Alan's heart grew in intensity, and he clamped his mouth firmly shut as his lips began to quiver against his will. _Don't do this. You're stronger than this. Just - just suck it up, dammit!_

"Virge, could you give us a minute?" Scott asked, looking sideways at the medic and communicating silently with his eyebrows - a phenomenon which, despite having witnessed it countless times over the past fourteen years, Alan still found somewhat disturbing.

Virgil nodded his head in understanding, his gaze flickering over to Alan momentarily. "Sure," he smiled, looking back at Scott. "I think I'll go check on Gordon. I'll be back in a few minutes. Call if you need me."

As the middle-Tracy departed from the room swiftly, Alan found his heart-rate increasing rapidly, and the ache in his chest grew stronger. As the seconds of heavy silence ticked by, he felt his eyes begin to burn. He couldn't hold in the emotions any more, he just couldn't. They were too strong, too persistent....and he was too weak. Too weak and too weary to fight it anymore.

He felt the sense of nausea hit him like a brick wall again, forcing the bile up his throat. His stomach churned alarmingly and he grimaced, pushing himself up on one arm and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, bending over at the waist as he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, praying to God that he wouldn't puke.

"Easy, kiddo," Scott soothed, putting a hand between his shoulder blades and rubbing in slow, circular motions. "Deep breaths, you'll be okay."

He sat that way for what felt like ten minutes, perched on the edge of the mattress, his legs hanging lifelessly over the side of the bed as he concentrated all his energy on keeping himself together. He took in another unsteady lungful of air, his shaking hands gripping the material of the mattress as forced the bile back down again, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking the tears from his eyes.

But this time, the tears wouldn't be held back. More sprung up to replace them, burning behind his heavy lids and stinging his whites mercilessly, almost mocking his weakness. He closed his eyes, his breath being sucked in rapidly as the emotions within his chest took hold. And with that small release, a Mexican wave seemed to take place throughout the rest of his body. His stiff shoulders sagged, his self-control vanished, and a tear slipped from his aching eyes, sliding down his cheek slowly.

The silence in the room was so heavy that Alan could almost hear the salty drop as it splashed onto his right thigh. However, the silence didn't last long. Two murmured words broke through Alan's shattered mind, the gentle tone warm and welcoming to the broken teenager.

"C'mere, buddy."

Two arms enveloped him as Scott stepped forward, pressing against Alan's knees as he gathered the younger Tracy into his chest. The teenager stiffened momentarily, images of the battered interior of Thunderbird 5 flashing before his eyes as his mind tried to make sense of everything that was happening. Then he felt his body sag into his brother's chest as he relaxed into the embrace, the ache in his heart and mind spiking to infinite proportions. He smelt the familiar aftershave lingering in the material of his brother's shirt, making Scott's presence seem so vivid, so immediate, so - so very _real_.

His brother was _there._ He was _alive_. All his brothers were alive_._ They hadn't been taken from him. He still had them - he still had Scott. He still had his big brother.

"It's okay, kiddo," Scott murmured in his ear, feeling Alan's breathing begin to quicken again. "I got you, you're safe."

Alan released his grip on the mattress and wrapped his own arms around his brother, burying his face into Scott's shirt as his chest forced a jerky breath to escape his mouth. The tears pooled again, this time without restraint, and were sent tumbling swiftly down his cheeks. He didn't even notice them. He didn't even care.

He had suddenly begun to realise the enormity of what might have happened; how he might have lost Scott, John, Virgil _and _Gordon - lost them forever. And for the first time, it struck him what that realisation truly _meant_ to him. Forever without his older siblings was something Alan had never contemplated before. They'd always been such a central part of his life....such a central part of _him_. He would never be able to survive without them. _But they almost died. Oh God, I was so close to losing all of them._

Scott closed his eyes as he felt his little brother trembling in his arms, hearing faint sounds of Alan's hitching breaths as the teenager tried to suppress his sobs. It killed Scott to see the kid so broken, so upset. He hadn't seen Alan cry like this in a long time. He hugged the boy tighter, resting his chin atop the mop of soft blond hair as he swallowed down the painful lump in his throat, trying to push the heart-stopping thoughts and images to the side. _Alan needs me. I can't break down, not now. Just keep it together._

Alan had hoped that crying would ease his uptight emotions somewhat. However, his tears only seemed to be intensifying by the second as he clutched onto Scott, never wanting to release his hold on the older Tracy, never wanting to let go of his protector - his childhood hero. It was almost as if a dam had burst within him, and everything was coming out at once. He couldn't hold back the sobs, and one forced its way past his lips, echoing in the empty silence of the room. Another one soon followed, unheeded by the broken Tracy as he buried himself further into the warm shoulder beneath his cheek.

He couldn't remember why he was crying anymore, he just knew that he couldn't stop. And it felt good. He didn't even care if Gordon teased him about being a baby until the day he died, all he cared about soothing the aching pain in his heart. And he knew he needed this.

"Shhh," Scott hushed gently, one hand moving up to cradle Alan's head against his shoulder as the teenager's sobs became more audible. Dammit, he hated to hear the kid cry. It nearly broke his heart. He ran his fingers through Alan's hair slowly as he blinked back his own tears, unable to prevent one or two from escaping. It felt so good to be holding his brother again. Alan was alive. Scott _hadn't_ failed his baby brother, after all. He still had a chance to make things right.

"It's okay, Sprout," he murmured, his trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Just let it out, I'm here."

Slowly, as the minutes ticked by, Alan found the ache within his chest beginning to lessen. His sobs gradually came to a halt, leaving him a sore and sniffling wreck as he sat slumped against Scott's chest, his energy reserves entirely depleted as exhaustion swept over him once more. The arms continued to hold him protectively, keeping the evil in the world at bay as they shielded Alan from harm. The teenager smiled softly through his tears, his slack arms somehow finding enough energy to squeeze his elder sibling gently. He couldn't believe how much he had taken his brothers for granted. He was so lucky to have such a great family.

Then his teenage side began poking at him, alerting him to the somewhat embarrassing and 'uncool' position he was currently in. Had he really just sobbed his heart out on his brother's shoulder? _You're damn right, I did._

"I'm pathetic," he mumbled suddenly, his voice croaking.

He heard a watery chuckle from above him as Scott drew back slightly, peering down at his face through glistening cobalt-blue eyes. Alan had to swallow down his surprise. Was Scott _crying?!_

"Me too, kiddo," the elder Tracy stated softly, his gaze locking with Alan's once more. Then his smile lessened somewhat, and another somber look drifted across his features. "You're a great kid, Al, d'you know that? I'm so proud of what you did today. You really proved yourself, Sprout - a guy couldn't ask for a better baby brother. I haven't said this often enough over the past few years, but - I love you, Al. You and the guys are the most important things in my life, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. On the station, I - I was so scared when I realised that you were stuck down here on the island with - with-."

"The Hood," Alan supplied softly. Scott nodded, worried eyes scanning Alan's features once more.

"I just felt so _useless_," he stated, pain filling his cobalt-blue orbs. Alan wrapped his arms around Scott's chest again, squeezing with as much energy as his weak body could produce. Scott sighed deeply, resting his head against Alan's as he returned the embrace. "Promise me one thing, Sprout."

"Mmm?" Alan mumbled, exhaustion pulling at him once more.

"Let me make it up to you," the pilot replied, his voice utterly serious. "I know you and I haven't exactly been as close as I'd like over the last year or so, but-"

"That was my fault," Alan interrupted softly, glancing away shamefully. "For being such an asshole."

"Hey," Scott frowned, pushing his younger brother away slightly and tilting Alan's chin back up so that the aqua-blue eyes locked back onto his gaze. "Watch your mouth, kiddo. I don't wanna hear you use that word about yourself, is that understood? You're far better than that."

At the familiar brotherly command, Alan felt a cheeky grin blossom over his face. "Can I use that word about Gordon?"

Scott smiled in response, feeling his heart soar upon seeing the sparkle back in Alan's eyes. Sure, it was still fairly small in comparison with Alan's usual energy, but it was an improvement on the glassy expression that had been there before.

"Scott?"

The eldest Tracy looked at his brother and smiled again. "Yeah, Sprout?"

Alan swallowed and looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry."

Scott blinked, surprised. "For what?" he inquired softly.

"Dunno," came the mumbled response. "For - for everything, I guess."

Frowning slightly, the older Tracy ruffled the teenager's hair to get his attention. "Hey, what is it?" he asked gently. "You can tell me."

Alan merely shrugged in response, releasing his hold around Scott as he leaned back slightly and rubbed his tender side, wincing. He hadn't noticed it before, but the sobbing had created one helluva throb in his bruised ribs. He hurt like hell. The tender muscles ached with every breath, the effort of supporting his weight straining in bruised back. Damn, it hurt.

"You okay?" Scott asked, his attention diverted as he eyed Alan's pained expression.

Nodding, the teenager tried to smile through his grimace. "Yeah. S'just a twinge, I'll be fine."

"Uh-huh," Scott commened disbelievingly, raising his left arm and keying in Virgil's code on his watch.

_"Virgil here."_

"Virge, your services are required," Scott stated, smiling at Alan as he spoke.

_"Be there in two seconds."_

Virgil wasn't lying. A moment later, the infirmary doors _'hissed'_ open, and the young medic hurried into the room. Scott raised an eyebrow at his brother's speedy appearance, but refrained from adding a verbal comment. _So much for 'going to check on Gordon'. I bet he was stood outside the whole time, the paranoid wombat._

Virgil strode up to Alan's bedside, poked Scott to the side gently, and smiled at his younger sibling. His smile faltered somewhat as he noticed the teenager's red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks down his cheeks. The middle Tracy's eyes widened, filling with concern once more. Then, leaning forwards, he wrapped his arms around Alan's shoulders and embraced him tightly, being mindful of the bruised ribs. He sensed that Alan needed the hug more than he did the pain medication.

Alan closed his eyes, leaning into his brother's embrace, feeling his heart lighten all the more.

"You okay, kiddo?" Virgil asked softly against Alan's hair.

The smaller Tracy nodded, despite the pain in his side, content to just sit there as Virgil held him for a long moment. At last, just as Alan felt as though he were about to drift off to sleep, the medic withdrew his arms from around his younger sibling and took a step backwards, eyeing the teenager critically.

"How much pain are you in?" he inquired, reaching out to help Alan lie back down on the mattress. Scott came around to the other side of the bed, easing him down gently. Alan opened his mouth to answer, but only managed to let out a pained grunt as his muscles stretched uncomfortably, his battered body disagreeing with the sudden change in position.

"Right," Virgil murmured decisively, running his fingers over the bruised side. "That much pain. I'm gonna give you some Thalydomal."

"Some what?" Alan mumbled, only half interested as his eyes began to droop.

"It's just a pain med, Al," Virgil replied. "But it can also double up as a sedative. I want to make sure you get a decent amount of rest, okay?"

Alan nodded, beyond caring, his body relaxing into the bed as Scott reached out to run a hand through his hair. He felt like a little kid again, being taken care of by his older siblings when he was sick. The feeling gave him a sense of belonging, a sense of unity with his brothers. He liked that feeling.

A sharp sting made him open his eyes again, and he saw Virgil withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his arm. The medic smiled gently, dropping the used syringe back onto the metal trolley beside him and pressing a cotton wool ball against the tiny pin-prick. Setting the ball aside, he gently tucked the blanket around Alan's form, his hands expertly avoiding the bruised and painful areas. Alan's eyes slid closed completely, his mind beginning to drift away as the fatigue took hold. He was exhausted from head to toe, both physically and emotionally, but he felt a good deal better than he had done before.

"Sleep tight, kiddo," he heard Virgil murmur softly, feeling Scott's fingers smoothing his hair down gently. "You're gonna be just fine."

And in his heart, Alan knew his brother was right.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the painful headache pounding behind his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head.

"I don't know how I'm gonna fix this," he admitted softly, glancing out of the window at the darkening sky. "Everything just feels so unreal right now."

The face on the screen in front of him nodded sympathetically, and the man ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

"Jeff, I can't tell you that everything's gonna be okay in the morning - 'cause it's not," Thomas Palmar stated gently, leaning forwards in his seat and propping his chin up against his hand. "But I _can_ tell you that you're not gonna be alone on this one. Don't try and handle everything yourself, understood? I want you survive long enough for me to get there."

Jeff raised his eyes to frown at his best friend, eyeing the doctor questioningly. "What d'you mean? Are you coming to the island?" he asked hopefully.

Thomas smiled softly. "D'you honestly think you'd be able to keep me away?" he countered lightly, before sobering up once more. "I'll have to ask a few favours at the hospital and organise a couple of replacements to stand in for me, but I should be able to reach the island by tomorrow evening. And I'll speak to Dave as soon as I can - he should be able to pass on the news about Thunderbird 5."

Jeff sighed in relief, nodding his thanks. Admiral David Ford was an old colleague of his from his previous careers on the giant NASA space station. He had been a mechanical engineer and, unlike Jeff, had never been able to leave his beloved stars behind. Consequently, even after Jeff and Thomas had both quit NASA, David had continued to work on the space station, and had even been the commander of many of the projects that took place on the Mars base.

Thomas, Jeff and David had been the youngest astronauts on the station, and the close friendships they had formed had lasted through the years. Jeff knew that he could rely on David to explain to NASA headquarters what had happened to Thunderbird 5. Although NASA was not directly in contact with International Rescue, they were still aware of the station's existence, and needed to be informed of the damage that had been inflicted upon her.

"Will you be alright?"

Jeff jumped slightly, startled from his thoughts, and turned back towards the screen, resting his hands on the surface of the desk. "Wha-? Oh...yeah. Yes, I'll be fine."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but refrained from comment. Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, he sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little overwhelmed by everything his best friend had just told him. Glancing down at his watch, he chewed his bottom lip in silence for a moment, before dropping his arm and looking back up at Jeff.

"Alrighty, then," he said finally. "I'm gonna go make some calls, pull a couple of strings and flutter my eyelids so that I can get this week's shifts covered and my board meeting rescheduled. Jeff, I want you to get some sleep, look after the family, and keep me updated on the boys. If John's condition starts to worry Virge, get him to call me. I'll call him myself sometime tomorrow, just to make sure."

Jeff rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at his friend gratefully. "Thanks, Tom. For everything."

Thomas merely waved a hand, already scrawling away on a data-pad that lay in front of him on the desk. "That's what family's for, grease-monkey."

The dreaded nickname brought a true - albeit small - smile to the Tracy patriarch's weary face. "Grease-monkey?"

"You know it's true," Thomas replied, smirking cunningly. Then he frowned, raising his index finger and looking pointedly at Jeff. "Oh, and before I forget - don't you _dare _drink any more coffee, got it? I'll be asking Onaha how many you've had when I get there, and it better not be more than four! You're stressed enough as it is, Jeff, and caffeine is only gonna make it worse."

"Okay, okay," Jeff groaned, dropping his head into his hands and pressing his fingers against his aching temples. "Leave me alone already."

"And take something for that headache of yours," Thomas instructed, his tone softening as it became laced with concern. "Before you end up killing yourself."

"I will." Jeff exhaled slowly, feeling a little of the stress leave him. Shaking his head, he sighed and reached out to the control board on the underside of the screen. "I'll see you later, Doctor Palmar."

Thomas frowned. "Don't call me-"

As the screen went blank, Jeff managed another smile. He was glad that he'd spoken with his old friend - his heart certainly felt a good deal lighter. And Thomas would be arriving sometime the following day....yes, that was definitely a relief. The doctor would be able to help heal both the physical and emotional injuries that his family had suffered. Jeff only hoped that Thomas would be able to get through to Alan.

Jeff stood up from his desk, stepping slowly across the office floor as he made his way to the giant window on the far wall. Pressing a button on the control panel beside the window, he watched as a blue blind began making it's way down from the ceiling, concealing the window beneath. Once the glass was fully covered, a soft '_click'_ locked it into place, echoing in the silence of the room. Jeff sighed, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hair again. _What am I supposed to do, Lucy? Where am I supposed to start?_

"Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff turned towards the door, smiling warmly as he spotted Brains standing in the shadows of the hallway. The scientist stepped into the room and slowly made his way over to where Jeff was standing, leaning against the wall beside him.

"How are the b-b-kids?" the younger man asked, his shoulder pressed against the wall as he turned to face Jeff.

Jeff sighed and shook his head, gazing out across the room. "I don't know, Brains," he replied softly, the concern and guilt a constant weight upon his chest. "I just don't know." Exhaling heavily, he glanced over at his close friend, a slight frown of worry falling into place.

"How's Fermat doing?"

The scientist's eyes met Jeff's, the pain and guilt evident behind the spectacles as he sighed softly. "He's asleep. Ph-ph-physically, he's perfectly alright. But mentally...." He broke off, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the floor. "He's s-still just a kid, Mr. Tracy. He and Alan are both so, uh, y-young. They weren't p-p-p-ready for something like this."

Jeff nodded his agreement, reaching out and squeezing Brain's shoulder. "We'll help them get through this," he stated firmly, even though his own heart was having trouble believing it. "The boys are made of strong stuff."

Brains glanced up at Jeff once more, before closing his eyes and dropping his head again. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I sh-should've done something to stop that s-s-c-c-c-monster from causing so much damage."

Jeff frowned, squeezing his friend's shoulder again to get his attetion. Once the bespectacled green eyes were focused on his face once more, he locked eyes with the scientist steadily.

"Hiram, there was nothing you could've done," he murmured emphatically. "_Nothing_. You can't go blaming yourself for what happened today. The only person who's at fault is the psychopath who attacked us. The Hood did this, not you."

"But I didn't even detect his suh-suh-vessel," Brains argued glumly. "Not until he surfaced. His j-jamming technology worked against our detection systems - that wasn't supposed to be possible! I should've in-installed a - a variety compensator as a precaution when I was, uh, initially designing th-the the island's scanning capabilities. The security system was too darn _weak._ I should have st-st-structured it more efficiently!"

Jeff frowned, shaking his head. "Brains, this isn't your fault," he stated firmly. Softening his tone a little, the Tracy patriarch continued, "Look, I know you. You'd never do anything that would potentially leave our family in danger. You love the boys too much for that. And I know the extent you went to when you first designed the island's security system. It was practically impermeable, Brains. But sometimes there are forces that we can't stop, sometimes - sometimes there are stronger powers that we can't beat. That's just the way that life is."

A short silence fell between them and Jeff sighed again, running a hand through his hair as he pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache beating a constant taboo within his skull. He needed to get some painkillers. That meant stopping off at the infirmary, which would also help to ease the worry in Jeff's heart over his need to check on his boys.

"I think I'll g-go check on Fermat," Brains stated suddenly, the fatherly concern clearly radiating from one man to the other as he mirrored Jeff's paternal thoughts.

Jeff nodded, smiling softly. "Get some sleep, Brains," he instructed. "You look tired."

Brains pushed himself away from the wall. "Good p-p-idea," he agreed wearily. "I'll see you in the, uh, m-morning, Mr. Tracy."

As Jeff watched his friend leave the room, he bit the inside of his cheek, a sudden thought occurring to him. _Penny. I promised I'd update her on John's condition. _Frowning at himself over his own forgetfulness, he strode stiffly over to his desk, his sore back aching slightly as he rotated his shoulders. Sitting down in his desk chair, he flicked on the main monitor and reached over to the key controls, typing in the correct code sequence.

The screen froze for a moment, before the line connected, and the call was sent out to the Ward's estate in London.

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Virgil leaned against the infirmary wall, gazing about dimly-lit room as he yawned, rubbing a hand over his eyes and sighing deeply. He was tired - so, so tired. But Alan and John needed him, which meant that sleep wasn't on the agenda.

"Go to bed, Virge."

Virgil smiled softly at the quiet command, sensing Scott move to stand behind him. Turning slightly, the medic regarded his brother with a raised eyebrow.

"You gonna make me?"

Scott grinned, reaching out to ruffle Virgil's hair. After a moment, he gave up the pretence and dropped his hand, instead wrapping both arms about the younger Tracy's shorter frame and firmly pulling him into a hug. Virgil, momentarily surprised by the spontaneity of the embrace, didn't immediately respond to the action. However, after a second's pause, he reciprocated the strong hold, almost squeezing the life out of his older sibling.

"Man, you're like a miniature python," Scott grunted into his hair. "Oh, and I'd like to put emphasis on the 'miniature'."

Virgil frowned, loosening his hold and clapping Scott on the back, before pulling away, Scott's arm moving up to drape itself over his shoulders.

"Jerk," the medic muttered fondly.

"Munchkin," Scott countered playfully, his voice still a low murmur so as not to awaken the two sleeping Tracy sons.

"Ugly," the younger man countered, his eyes sparkling.

"Stupid," Scott shot back, his voice free from any trace of hostility or anger.

Virgil chuckled softly, shaking his head at their childish behaviour. It felt good that they had returned to their usual pattern of playful teasing. Reaching behind him, he pulled a stool over and sat down heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck - a clear indication to Scott that he was tired. The older Tracy eyed him criticially.

"So," Virgil sighed softly, as Scott sat down on a stool beside him. "D'you think we have _our_ Alan back?"

Scott glanced across the room at the sleeping blond, his eyes running over the young features with a tender fondness. "I don't know," he replied, unable to look away from the peaceful form of his baby brother. "I think he's finally started to accept reality, but...." He sighed, shaking his head. "Dammit, Virge, the kid's too young to face this kinda thing. This should never have happened."

"I know, Scotty," Virgil murmured, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve absently. "I know."

"One thing I was wondering about, though," Scott began, his tone thoughtful.

"Yeah?" Virgil inquired absently. "What's that?"

Scott leaned forwards in his stool and rubbed his chin with the heel of his hand. "John's got better hearing than the rest of us put together. How come Alan didn't wake him up?"

Virgil shrugged. "It's probably just the effect of the drugs on his state of consciousness," he replied. "Morphine can be pretty strong stuff, especially on a body as exhausted as John's. But his vitals are still good, so there's nothing to worry about."

Suddenly, the infirmary doors '_hissed'_ open, and a copper-haired figure walked slowly into the room. Pulling up a stool beside Scott, he plopped down onto it wordlessly, a sad and somewhat moody expression upon his face.

"Hey," Scott greeted, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder. "You okay?"

Gordon merely let out a faint sigh, the look of sadness remaining on his face. Scott exchanged glances with Virgil, both older siblings feeling their concern increasing as they eyed the uncharacteristically somber prankster - which, inadvertently, was an oxymoron in its own right.

"Gordy?" Vigil pressed gently, leaning forwards in his stool. "What's wrong?"

Gordon's somber expression morphed into a moody pout. "Kyrano drained the pools," he stated sulkily.

"Ah," Scott commented. "The pools."

"Right," Virgil agreed tonelessly. "He drained 'em."

Gordon looked from one sibling to the other for a long moment, before his frown deepened considerably. "You already knew, didn't you?"

"Well..." Scott began, trying to think of a suitable answer to the accusation. "I didn't _not_ know, if that makes it sound any better."

Gordon glared at him. "That's it," he grumbled. "I'm painting smiley faces _all over _the nose-cone of Thunderbird One."

Virgil tried to hide the smirk that threatened to explode across his face at the childish statement. Gordon caught the look and raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't smile if I were you, Virge," he commented, even as the corners of his own mouth turned upwards. "At least not unless you want 'Two to have a new paint-job. I always thought that the title 'Rainbow-birds' sounded pretty good. Maybe I could-"

"Touch my 'bird," Virgil growled. "And I might 'accidentally' land her on top of 'Four."

Gordon glared at his brother. "Damage my sub, and I'll burn your piano."

Virgil frowned right back at him. "Lay one finger on my piano, and that yellow monstrosity of yours gets turned into a banana pancake."

"Guys." The warning tone made both Gordon and Virgil pause in the semi-argument. Two heads turned to look sheepishly at their older brother, who was regarding them in fond amusement. "At least _try_ and act your age."

Gordon mumbled something that sounded distinctly like '_where's the fun in that?_', but it was said so softly that he couldn't be entirely certain. Smirking to himself, he slung an arm about Gordon's shoulders and pulled him in for a brief hug.

"You okay, Gords?"

Gordon nodded, letting out another sigh, before the pout returned to his face. "He drained the pools," he repeated.

Scott let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, so I heard."

Gordon turned to look at him, a small frown of concern tugging at his brow as his gaze flickered over to the occupied beds. "How's Alan doing?" he asked softly.

Scott followed his brother's gaze and sighed deeply. After a moment, he looked back towards the redhead and ran a hand through his chocolate-brown hair. With Gordon relatively okay - at least he appeared to be that way - Scott's main concern at the moment was for his youngest brother. Sure, he was worried his whole family - the Hackenbackers and Belegants included. But Alan? Although the kid had finally begun the healing process, he still had a long way to go. But he'd taken the first step, so perhaps there was still a chace that the teenager would be able to recover from the ordeal he had endured.

Scott wanted to wake him up and demand to know what the Hood had done to him, but he knew that Alan wouldn't respond to the blunt approach. And besides, the kid was exhausted. For now, Scott was simply content to let the kid get some sleep.

He was gonna need it.

* * *

**_So Alan has finally allowed his barriers to fall, and the healing process has begun. But what about the relationship between Jeff and Alan? Will the chasm between them ever be bridged? And how is Gordon really coping with everything that's going on? With his pools drained and his brothers hurt, the copper-top might just be nearing his breaking point, too._**

**_Well, that's another chapter for you! Thanks for reading. PLEASE REVIEW because, as always, concrit, nit-picks and general comments are always very much appreciated! _**

**_I'm going away on a a trip with my youth group over the next few days, so I might not be able to reply to emails after today. But I will get back to you all as soon as possible! As for the next chapter, shall we say a week? Yeah, that sounds okay to me. See you then!_**

**_xoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	4. Chapter 4: Reaching The Limit

**_Hiya!_**

**_Yup, it's me again. I know, I know, I'm a tad late. That's not ENTIRELY my fault, honest. We had a power cut earlier this weekend that prevented me from typing, and now I've managed to contract a nasty stomach bug of my boyfriend. I'm not at all pleased. :^(_**

**_But hey! I'm back with the next chapter, and that's what really matters, right?_**

**_Thanks for the great reviews, they fuel my creativity! (Well, they don't have any DIRECT effect on that part of my brain, but they still make me feel happy!) All the reviews were great, for the exception one strange and rather stupid comment from 'H.C' that just made me raise amused and sympathetic eyebrows (one eyebrow for each emotion - lol). But it's okay, I'm not offended, everyone's entitled to their own opinion. But seriously H.C, if you don't like my story, stop reading it. Nobody's forcing you._**

**_Anywho, enough of that. Back to what you all came here for! This chapter's for Lissy, who still isn't feeling too great - and for CC, who's also been a little poorly this week. Big hugs to both of you!_**

* * *

Jeff swallowed, reaching out to run his fingers slowly through his son's soft, blond hair.

"Will he be alright?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against the heavy silence of the still infirmary.

Virgil set down his data-pad and smiled gently at his father. "He'll be fine," the medic replied, fiddling absently with the stethoscope that hung about his neck. "The drugs knocked him out, that's all. He'll be stiff as hell in the morning, but I - I dunno."

"We got him back, Dad," Scott elaborated quietly, glancing over at Jeff from the vigil he was holding at John's bedside. "The kid's still pretty messed up, but he's _Alan_ again. Don't worry, he and Gordon will be driving you crazy in no time."

Leaning over the bed to carefully tuck the blankets closer about the sleeping form beneath him, Jeff sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face and watching the steady rise and fall of the boy's chest. He felt the same sense of guilt bubbling within him, refusing to back down, poking at him continuously. And he couldn't ignore it. He was a father, he wasn't _allowed_ to ignore it. If he wanted to blame himself for anything and everything that had happened that day, he was fully entitled to do so. It was all part of the job.

"How's John?" Jeff inquired, still unable to tear is eyes away from the peaceful face of his youngest child.

Virgil leaned against the side of Alan's bed and glanced over towards the second patient on the other side of the room. "His vitals are almost back to normal," he stated quietly, rubbing at his chin with one hand. "I completed anther neuro check about half an hour ago and, given his level of awareness, I don't think there's anything to worry about. I'll let him sleep through 'til morning, and see how he is then. I've programmed the monitors to go crazy if any of his vitals change."

Jeff smiled, feeling a little more of the stress ebb away, the worry radiating out of his stiff and sore body and vanishing into nothingness. Perching on the side of Alan's mattress, he scrubbed a hand over his face and inhaled deeply through his nose, holding the breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly through his mouth. He was still rather annoyed with himself at having been absent when Alan had suffered his little 'panic attack' episode earlier that evening. Not to mention the fact that the whole scene might have easily been avoided, had Jeff only remembered to inform Alan of the whereabouts of the Hood's submarine. That was another mistake to add to the ever-expanding list his mind had been creating over the past few hours. I truth, most of them were a little ridiculous, since there was simply nothing he could have done whilst he was trapped on-board the space station. But he couldn't help it....he just felt so darn guilty!

Jeff dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head slightly, frowning at himself.

_I shouldn't be thinking about that right now. What matters most is that the boys are alive. Everything else is just an added bonus. Man, Tom would kill me if found out I was blaming myself. He always hated that aspect of my character. So did Lucy, come to think of it. Hey...speaking of Tom._

Raising his head to address his two conscious sons, Jeff cleared his throat softly. "Tom's coming over tomorrow evening, by the way."

Virgil's head snapped towards him, something akin to happiness sparkling in his eyes. "Seriously?"

Jeff nodded. "Yup. There was no keeping him away this time."

"Awesome," the younger man grinned. Virgil's shoulders seemed to sag in relief, almost as though all the tension left him in a single instant, and he plopped down heavily into a chair at the end of Alan's bed.

"How did he take it?" Scott asked, a slight frown of worry playing across his features as he contemplated the doctor's reaction to the truth behind the day's events.

Jeff sighed, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular as he stared out across the room thoughtfully. "Pretty well, all things considered," the Tracy patriarch mused. "Have you contacted Andy yet?"

At Scott's slight shake of the head, Jeff locked eyes with his eldest son. "You probably should, Scotty. Although he and the rest of the base will hear it on the grapevine - or on the news, since I gave Lisa the details a few hours ago - he's still gonna want to speak to you personally."

"I know," Scott murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I will. Later."

Jeff nodded in satisfaction. Andrew Myers was Scott's closest friend, and had been for many years now. His eldest son would benefit from talking to him. The base medic and the pilot had both served in the Air Force together during Scott's previous career and - much like Jeff and Thomas - viewed each other as brothers. For Andrew, Scott and the other Tracy sons were the younger siblings he'd never had. And for Scott, Andy was the older brother he could turn to for comfort or guidance, the one he could confide in. The men were like two peas in a pod, in both personality and appearance. And to Jeff, Andy was as much a part of his family as the Hackenbackers and the Belegants.

He certainly had one _big_ family.

Dropping his head into his hands, Jeff pressed the tips of his middle and index fingers into his temples, trying to alleviate the pressure behind his eyes. _Darn headache. This really isn't a good time, okay? Can't you cut me some slack?_

"Dad?"

Glancing up, Jeff smiled softly. "Mmm-hmm?"

Virgil was regarding him with a worried expression, the honey-burnt depths of his eyes filled with a silent accusation. "When were you gonna tell me about that headache of yours?"

"I wasn't," Jeff replied evenly, sitting up a little straighter and meeting his son's gaze steadily. "Because I don't have one."

Scott shot him an incredulous look, opening his mouth to protest the obvious lie. However, Jeff cut him off before the words had passed the pilot's lips.

"Where's your brother?"

Both younger men looked at the occupied beds automatically, before their brains switched into gear and they glanced towards the door simultaneously. Had the situation been a little less serious, Jeff would have laughed at their meerkat-like behaviour.

"Gordo went to the training room to burn off some steam, since-" Scott had to smile softly before continuing. "Since, I quote, 'somebody had the nerve to drain _his_ pools'."

Jeff returned the smile, although somewhat wearily. "That's our Gordon."

"D'you want me to go check on him?" Scott offered, already getting to his feet. Jeff shook his head and held up a hand.

"It's alright, Scotty, I got this one," he smiled, standing up stiffly out of the chair and rotating his shoulders. Sparing one last glance at the sleeping form of his youngest, he turned and headed towards the door. "When I get back, I want both of you to head off to bed, okay?" he called over his shoulder.

"But Dad-" Scott began to protest.

"I have to-" Virgil argued.

"No excuses, boys," Jeff interjected softly, pausing in the doorway and looking back at both of them. "It's been a long day - for all of us. I'll watch your brothers for a little while. It's almost two o'clock, and it's high time you boys were in bed."

"Dad, I'm not-" Scott frowned, the stereotypical Tracy stubbornness already battling its way to the surface.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Jeff interrupted calmly. "You're not a kid anymore, you're twenty-five for Pete's sake, and you can go to bed whenever you damn well please." At Scott's expression, Jeff crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "Sorry to break it to you, Scotty, but you're still _my _kid, twenty-five isn't that much older than five when I take your current expression into account, and you're going to bed because I say so. That clear?"

Scott pouted, realising that he'd lost the argument. Jeff smiled triumphantly. "That's my boy. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Walking off down the hallway, the Tracy patriarch slowly made his way through the house, heading towards the right wing of the complex where the training room was located. Arriving outside the door, he paused, knowing that Gordon - yes, even the prank-loving, shirt-hating Tracy himself - enjoyed a little privacy on occasions. Reaching out, Jeff knocked on the door loudly, wondering if Gordon would even be able to hear him. Often the teenager would listen to music whilst he trained - although clearly nothing along the lines of Beethoven or Chopin, as they drifted more towards Virgil's tastes. But still, the redhead always liked to turn up the volume when he was listening to music. He was probably lost in his own little world of classic rock at the moment.

Pushing the door open, Jeff poked his head into the room, raising an eyebrow when he saw that the training equipment was unoccupied. Figuring that his second-youngest must have gone elsewhere, Jeff reached around the door-frame to turn off the lights. However, a soft groan stilled his movements.

Stepping fully into the room, Jeff's attention focused itself on the couch that was situated against the far wall, facing him. There, sleeping fitfully in his usual manner upon the large, blue object, lay Gordon.

Smiling softly, Jeff approached his son. Stopping in front of the sleeping Tracy, he shook his head fondly, reaching out to grab the throw-rug from the back of the couch and bending down to tuck it gently around the snoozing teenager's sprawled form. Gordon grunted and stirred in his sleep, a slight frown appearing on his face as he moved his head to the side, clearly agitated. With the experience that only a father could possess, Jeff laid a gentle hand atop Gordon's head and slowly ran his fingers through the copper locks.

"Sleep, Gordy," he whispered, smiling in satisfaction as the younger Tracy relaxed once more, his tense muscles sagging into the couch cushions. Standing up and regarding the boy below him with a fond expression, Jeff suppressed a chuckle, knowing that Gordon wouldn't appreciate him conveying his current thoughts to the rest of the family.

_Just look at him - he's so adorable._

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Alan sucked in a sharp breath as pain protruded through his state of comfortable nothingness. Lights, sounds and senses snapped back online in a single instant as he was pulled from sleep, his heavy eyelids blinking slowly as they dispelled the sleep from his sluggish brain. He frowned, momentarily confused. _What the...? Why the heck am I in the infirmary?_

Then, in a sudden rush of images and emotions, the memories from the previous day slammed into him. Although not as strong or immediate as they had once been, they still made his heart beat rapidly within his chest, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

Deciding that a trip to the bathroom was required, he placed his right arm flat against the bed, beginning to push himself up. As he slid his left arm beneath him to support his weight against the mattress, he froze, feeling a searing hot pain twinge down his right side and around the lower half of his back. Grunting loudly, he stilled his movements, he right hand rubbing at the bruised area, attempting to lessen the pain a little.

_Smart move, Alan. Heck, why don't I just do a friggin handstand, that'll help__! Damn, that hurt._

Gritting his teeth, Alan managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position, leaning forwards slightly to ease the ache in his ribs. It was then that he noticed he wasn't the only occupant of the bed. Blinking in surprise, Alan gazed at the sleeping form of his father for a long moment, wondering how on earth he hadn't seen the Tracy patriarch beforehand. Jeff slept with his upper body resting on the empty space of mattress beside Alan's left hip, his head pillowed in his arms as he slumbered silently, the rest of his body sitting slumped in a chair at the bedside.

Alan smiled softly, his eyes running over the peaceful features of his father's face. The fact that Alan's movements hadn't awoken him was an indication of just how exhausted the older Tracy was. Alan bit his lip, thinking over the recent conversation he'd had with his Dad. Not two days ago, they'd been at each other's throats. Again. All they ever seemed to do was argue. And Alan knew that was mostly his own fault. He was always playing the fool and making mistakes.

But despite all that, Alan knew that his father still loved him. Heck the fact that he was sleeping at Alan's bedside (and in what must be an exceedingly uncomfortable position) seemed to imply that particular sentiment.

Sighing deeply, and feeling a good deal happier (although he wasn't entirely sure why, since his ribs were still throbbing painfully), Alan carefully pushed back the bedclothes and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, closing his eyes as the room span alarmingly. He waited a moment for the world to right itself, before slowly setting his feet down on the floor and standing up. His hand automatically went to his side, soothing the ache as he walked - slightly unsteadily - towards the bathroom on the far side of the room.

As the minutes ticked by and his senses began to sharpen, so did the pain that radiated up from his injured limbs. It was almost as though he had succeeded in pulling every single muscle. Even blinking seemed to hurt.

Taking a glass from the shelf in the cupboard above the bathroom sink, Alan filled it with water, drinking the liquid slowly and feeling the strange, sickly feeling as the cold substance hit his empty stomach. He hadn't eaten since - since - Heck, when _was_ the last time he'd had anything to eat? It must have been the previous morning. He hadn't wanted to eat breakfast with the rest of the guys, so he'd grabbed a handful of granola bars and gone storming off towards the beach to sulk.

_Man, I suck. How old am I, five?! Well not any more. If there's one thing I've learned from - from everything that's happened, it's that I can't take my family for granted. And they deserve more from me than just a jerk of a kid who throws tantrums. They can tease me all they want, I won't complain. 'Cause we're brothers, and that's what we do._

As the seconds ticked slowly by, Alan found his mind growing steadily more alert, the thoughts and feelings intensifying within him. Questions and concerns that he hadn't contemplated before were now constantly prodding at the back of his mind, causing a knot of worry to begin working its way up his chest.

Alan paused at bathroom doorway, frowning slightly. What had happened to International Rescue? With Thunderbird 5 out of action and the world under the impression that the members of the rescue organisation were nothing more than common thieves, what was his father going to do with the Thunderbirds?

Stepping into the infirmary once again, Alan scrubbed the back of his neck, shrugging off the question with a wince. _I guess I'll have to ask Dad about that when he wakes up. I shouldn't be worrying about stuff like that, he's probably sorted everything out already. I just have to concentrate on making sure the guys are okay. Say, I wonder where Virgil is? _

"Alan?"

The teenager jumped in surprise, sucking in a sudden breath before grunting and clutching at his ribs. _Dammit, I gotta stop doing that._

Turning towards the voice, Alan's gaze became captured by the brilliantly blue eyes that were staring steadily at him from the other side of the room, clouded only a little by the fatigue and pain they bore. His own eyes widening, Alan swiftly strode - well, hobbled - across the room and sat down heavily in the chair at his brother's bedside, his heart hammering within his chest. Fear and pain and concern coursed through his body as one, and the water within Alan's stomach suddenly decided that it didn't want to remain still. Alan swallowed heavily, forcing the bile down. Now was a _really_ bad time for him to puke his guts up all over the place.

John was regarding Alan with a mixture of silent emotions, none of which the younger Tracy could identify. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as their eyes locked again, and Alan felt his walls crumble as they had done the previous evening. But it wasn't a sudden release of pain and anguish that overwhelmed him this time. It was simply a strong desire to connect with his brother once again. Reaching out instantly, he took hold of John's uninjured hand, squeezing it firmly.

"Hey," he murmured, not quite knowing what else to say. Words wouldn't be able to convey the turmoil of thoughts and feelings that tumbled around within his mind. He wanted to tell John everything, to rebuild their relationship to the strength it had been during Alan's childhood. He just wanted his brother back. And he knew that John would understand that. He'd always understood.

"Hey," John replied, his voice barely above a whisper as a soft smile graced his features. "Long time no see, huh?"

Alan wanted to smile - honestly, he did. But he couldn't. Despite the light-hearted tone of John's voice, Alan knew the truth behind the comment. It had been too long - far, far too long -since he'd spoken to his brother. Months had gone by since their last conversation together. How could Alan have allowed that to happen? Swallowing to ease the lump in his throat, Alan chewed his bottom lip, dropping his eyes from John's face.

John frowned worriedly as he watched his brother withdraw into himself slightly. He sighed, wincing as he shifted his position on the mattress. Then, releasing Alan's hand, he reached out to place two fingers beneath the teenager's chin, tilting Alan's head up towards him again. He held his younger sibling's gaze for a moment, staring into the expressive aqua-blue orbs of his smaller carbon copy, before his hand went around the back of Alan's neck, pulling the teenager towards him.

True, it wasn't the most practical of positions for such an act, but John wasn't willing to wait another second. He'd waited long enough. Being careful not to move his injured arm, he squeezed Alan against his shoulder, feeling the younger boy's arms go around his neck. The astronaut was exceedingly grateful that Alan seemed aware of the burn in the centre of his back. That was certainly going to make the embrace more comfortable for both of them.

Alan, although surprised by his brother's actions, willingly returned the hug, feeling an unknown hole within him fill up to the brim with relief. Man, he'd missed his brother's hugs. He'd missed feeling safe and secure like this. Dammit, he'd missed _John_.

A few moments passed in silence, before the throb in Alan's ribs became too much to bear. Having been leaning with his side pressed against the mattress as he embraced his brother, the pressure against his bruised ribs was causing him a great deal of discomfort. He was pretty certain that it hadn't been doing anything to help his injuries. But what the heck, it'd been worth every painful second.

Pulling away with a soft grunt, Alan rubbed his side tenderly, trying to hide the pained expression on his face. However, he wasn't quite fast enough to escape John's keen eyes. The older blond's gaze became worried, a concerned frown adorning his face as he regarded Alan steadily.

"What is it?" he inquired softly. "Did I hurt you?"

Alan shook his head immediately. "No, it's nothing," he stated softly, forcing a weak smile onto his face. "I'm fine."

John's right eyebrow began it's familiar trajectory of ascension, and Alan found his smile widening. _John and his eyebrows. I missed that, too._

"What?" John mumbled, his tone playfully defensive.

Alan grinned and shook his head. "Nothing. It's just I - I mean - we-" he paused, letting out small sigh and locking eyes with his brother once more. "It's good to see you again, Johnny."

John smiled at him fondly. "You too, Sprout."

"And I'm sorry about, you know, not talking to you for so long," Alan continued, wondering how the heck his mouth had managed to begin talking against his will. "It's just that - ya know - I didn't-"

"Hey, don't sweat it," John murmured, reaching out to run his fingers through Alan's hair teasingly. Upon seeing that the teenager's face was still a little downcast, he dropped his hand and sighed heavily, regarding his brother in silence for a long moment.

"You need chocolate," he stated finally.

Alan couldn't help it. At the familiar and stereotypically _John-like_ phrase, laughter exploded out of him like an overly pressurised water valve. And boy did it hurt. After the first initial laugh, he clutched at his side, bending forwards and grunting loudly in pain as his insides felt like they had just turned themselves inside-out. Tears sprung to his eyes and he exhaled slowly, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists.

"Alan?"

A hand settled on his shoulder and he struggled to sit upright, leaning back in his chair and panting for breath. A blur of movement flashed in his watering eyes, and then somebody was sitting in front of him, perched on the edge of the mattress beside a struggling John, who himself seemed to be in a great deal of pain as he tried to sit up.

"John, lie down. Alan? Alan, look at me," a gentle voice instructed.

Blinking away the moisture, the teenager glanced up at the figure before him, feeling a hand coming to settle on the side of his neck. His eyes locked with the concerned gaze of his father, and he tried to control his breathing.

"Sorry," he panted, feeling a little guilty upon seeing the large bags beneath his father's eyes. "Did I wake you?

Both Jeff and John smiled softly, and Jeff shook his head, letting out a fond chuckle. "That's not exactly what I'm worried about right now," he stated gently, before his expression became serious once more. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Alan croaked, dropping his gaze and massaging his injured side. "It's just a twinge. I'll be fine in a sec."

"Uh-huh," a new voice interjected skeptically.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Alan spotted Virgil standing in the doorway. The medic smiled at him softly, moving further into the room and coming to stand beside his chair, his hand ruffling his younger brother's hair as he glanced down at him in concern.

"Laugh too hard?" he guessed, his voice lined with sympathy.

Alan nodded, wincing again as another throb tore through his muscles. "Yup."

"Want some pain meds?" the middle Tracy inquired, crouching down so that he was closer to Alan's eye level.

"Yes please," Alan croaked, his arms still wrapped around his midriff.

Virgil blinked in surprise. "You do?"

Alan nodded again. "Yeah. If that's okay?"

"Sure," Virgil answered hurriedly, still sounding a little shocked. "It's just that I - I wasn't-"

"You thought I was gonna refuse like I usually do, right?" Alan supplied, smiling slightly. At Virgil's guilty shrug, he let out a weak chuckle, before wincing and sobering up once more. "Well, in your defence, I _was_ thinking of doing just that. Except then I figured that you'd probably just make me take them anyway-"

"He would," John confirmed sleepily, his eyes having slid closed again.

"So I just took the easiest route for everyone," Alan finished lightly. He glanced towards John, a small frown of concern tugging at his brow. "But I think Johnny needs the meds more than I do."

John shook his head, looking thoroughly exhausted, and pried his eyes open. "M'fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

"John," Virgil pressed. "You need to-"

"No," John replied firmly, his gaze hardening as he glared up at his younger sibling.

"John," Jeff murmured, a note of warning in his voice.

"Dad, I'm _fine_," the astronaut stressed, clearly becoming agitated. He shifted slightly, his body stiffening and his lips pressing tightly together as he tried to hide just how much pain he was in. The burn on his back seared like fire and his injured arm ached terribly - but there was no way in hell that he was letting Virgil give him another shot.

Alan regarded his brother for a long moment. He felt bad for John, knowing that the older Tracy's phobia of needles was going to make his stay in the infirmary highly unpleasant. And John was never going to take the drugs willingly, which would mean that he and Virgil would end up having an argument about it every time. Wasn't there another way to get his brother to accept the medication? The longer John waited for the meds, the worse the pain would get. And Alan didn't like the idea of his older sibling being in so much pain when there was nothing he could do to help. Unless....

An idea formed itself within his mind, and he straightened up, dropping his arms from around his midriff and taking a deep breath.

"Actually, forget about the meds, I don't need them," he stated, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

Three heads snapped round to look at him.

"What?" Virgil asked, looking both confused and concerned. "But Al, you're not gonna be able to-"

"I'm not taking mine," Alan elaborated. "Until John's taken his."

Alan locked eyes with Virgil, and a light of understanding dawned within the medics honey-burnt orbs. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he quickly hid his amusement behind a gentle cough, turning to face John with a neutral expression. John glanced up at him, then over at Alan, then back at Virgil again. His brow furrowing, he puffed put a breath, his lips forming a sleepy pout.

"You're ganging up on me," he protested pathetically, although his body sagged in defeat.

"Yup," Alan responded cheerfully, as Virgil went off to collect the equipment he needed. A few minutes later, and the medic had returned with a couple of hypodermic needles and some disinfectant swabs.

"It'll be quick," he stated, as John paled and sucked in an unsteady breath. "Count to five again, Johnny, and I'll be done."

Alan leaned forwards as Virgil swabbed an area on John's arm. Taking his brother's hand, he squeezed it gently as he grinned cheerfully at his older brother.

"John? What's seventeen multiplied by nine?" he inquired casually, as though he were simply asking for the time.

"Wha-" John blinked at him confused. At Alan's inquisitive gaze, he swallowed and answered, "Uh...one-hundred and fifty-three."

"Oh, that's nice," Alan commented absently, before inching closer and frowning questioningly. "What's one-hundred and fifty-three divided by nine?"

John sent Alan a look that told him the older boy was clearly concerned for his younger brother's mental state. "It's...seventeen," he answered slowly, his eyebrow arching again as he gazed back at Alan. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Alan replied, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"There," Virgil stated, dropping the needle down onto the metal trolley behind him and pulling off his gloves, pressing a cotton-wool ball over the tiny pinprick. "All done."

John blinked at him in surprise, before his gaze slowly traveled back to Alan's face. The teenager was regarding him with a somewhat smug expression, his blue eyes sparkling with fond amusement.

"Trust you to respond to the old 'math diversion' trick," he smiled. "Always worked on Fermat, too."

Jeff smiled as he listened to the conversation, feeling his heart swell within him as he watched the smile on his youngest boy's face spread into a full-blown grin at John's playful threats to never share his chocolate with the smaller Tracy again. Oh yes, he had his boys back. They'd already begun the healing process, he could see that. Things were still far from being 'alright', but they were getting there. They'd crossed a huge milestone already, and had come out the other side much better off than before.

As Alan ruefully allowed Virgil to inject him with a dose of pain medication, the Tracy father smiled, pride growing within him at how well his sons were interacting. All traces of stress and tension were gone, replaced by a love and sense of security that almost seemed to fill the air itself. His boys would be alright. They'd take care of each other, they always did. His family could begin to pick up the pieces of their shattered world and, one by one, put them back together again, healing themselves as they strengthened their relationships with one another.

Because they were Tracys. And that's what Tracys did.

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Gordon ploughed through the water steadily, ignoring the constant ache in his muscles as he forced himself to keep to the fast, powerful pace. The water no longer seemed to exist around him. He was floating on nothing, gliding through pure light as his body and soul became lost in the repetitive stroke. The universe could be collapsing around him, and he wouldn't know. Nothing could invade his own little world right now. He was in control.

He knew he was being stupid. How many times had his Olympic coach warned him about overstepping his safety boundaries? _'Push yourself too hard, and that's the end of it. Stamina can't be built up and maintained by exhausting your body. And draining your energy supplies when you're in the water is a dangerous move, Gordon. Water is only your friend as long as you have the strength to fight against it. Give it a chance, and it will happily destroy you.'_

Gordon hadn't listened to that particular rant, of course. His coach had always lectured him far too much on the random facts of life, and he'd swiftly learned to phase out when the older man went off the subject of his swimming technique. But still, he'd been one of the biggest role models in the young Tracy's life. He'd managed to take Gordon all the way to the top - something Gordon himself had secretly never believed he could do.

Sure, to the rest of the world Gordon Tracy was confidence personified. But in truth, most of it was false bravado. There had been times when he'd doubted himself to the extent that he'd wanted to quit - times when he'd contemplated giving up on his dreams altogether. But all that had changed after the hydrofoil accident. It hadn't even been two years since that terrible day, but to Gordon it seemed like much more than that. The painful months of recovery following his accident had lasted a lifetime, and Gordon had gone near insane from the monotony of it all. But he'd never once doubted that he'd walk and run once more - not once. He hadn't doubted himself ever again after that day.

Or at least not until now.

He didn't know what to do, what to think, what to say. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to everything that had happened to his family. Just over twenty-four hours ago, he, his father and his older brothers had been trapped on-board a useless piece of technological junk, floating around aimlessly in space as they waited for their dwindling oxygen supplies to run out. What was he supposed to feel in relation to that? What was he supposed to think? He felt lost and confused at present, battling inwardly with his emotions as he continued to cut through the water with forceful determination.

His muscles were already screaming in pain, telling him that he was pushing himself too hard, surpassing the safety limit he had always kept to. The burning sensation in his shoulders and the dizzying throb within his skull also alerted him to the fact that he was running out of energy. His body simply had no more calories to give him. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. But he didn't want to stop. Because as soon as he stopped, he'd have to face the real world again, and thus face the questions that it threw at him.

_How do I feel? I feel like crap, that's how I feel. I feel like a total failure. I feel angry at the Hood for everything he did to John and Alan, angry at myself for not being able to stop it, and angry at Dad for creating the Thunderbirds in the first place. But how is being angry gonna help anybody? I'm just a stupid - useless - piece of-_

The bitter thoughts had distracted him to such an extent that he didn't realise just how quickly he was powering through the water. With a sharp jolt of pain, his outstretched hand connected solidly with the wall of the pool, forcing a gasp to escape Gordon's lips. Although naturally, since his mouth had been half submerged at the time, he merely succeeded in sucking in a mouthful of water. Immediately coming to a halt and grabbing onto the side of the pool, Gordon coughed and choked on the water in his lungs, his senses focused solely on the task of removing the unwanted liquid from within his respiratory organs.

A loud splash to his right, followed by a light spray of water, alerted him to the presence of another being within the pool. Then there was a large, heavy hand slapping him firmly between the shoulder blades, attempting to dislodge the water from his chest. Gordon coughed and choked for a minute more, feeling as though he were practically bringing up his lungs, before he was finally able to draw in an unsteady breath. Leaning his burning cheek against the wall of the pool, he glanced sideways at the taller figure beside him, his breathing ragged.

"Hey," he croaked.

Scott was frowning at him worriedly, his water-soaked shirt clinging to his chest as he reached up to grab hold of the side of the pool.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, watching as Gordon closed his eyes, still panting heavily.

"I'd have thought....that was obvious," he replied wearily, breathing heavily and coughing again as he rubbed the tears from his eyes. Scott tried not to smile at that, but didn't fully succeed. Gordon frowned at him. "You think....this is funny?!"

"No," the older Tracy replied, immediately sobering up. "If it was all a big joke, would I really have jumped in here _fully clothed_ to save your sorry butt?"

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "I didn't exactly need saving, Batman," he remarked, although a small smile was tugging at his lisp. "And - and why the heck did you jump in here with your clothes on?"

"Because, _Princess_," Scott smirked, pushing himself up out of the pool and sitting on the edge, his legs dangling in the water. "I was worried about you. You sounded like you were coughing up half the pool back there."

Gordon couldn't think of a good comeback for that, so he remained silent. Putting his hands on the deck above him, he pushed himself upwards. However, his arms and legs were surprisingly weak and shaky, and he ended up in the pool again, panting for breath as he leaned his head against the cool tiles of the pool wall.

"Gords?" Scott slipped back into the pool again, a worried frown adorning his features. "What is it?"

Gordon suddenly felt exhausted, almost as though he could fall asleep right there in the pool. His eyes were already beginning to drift closed. Man, he was tired. The ache in his limbs had dulled to a constant buzzing, every muscle feeling heavy and weak. _Dammit, I pushed myself too hard._

"Gordon?" Scott called again, worry rising as his younger brother closed his eyes. Tugging on the smaller man's arm, he pulled Gordon over to where the ladder out of the pool was situated. Treading water beside it, he poked Gordon in the back. "C'mon, fish-feet, dry land awaits you."

Gordon grasped onto the metal ladder with one hand, his stinging eyes glancing upwards at the steps above him. His body seemed to groan in anticipation, his limbs weighing him down all the more as the protested the prospect of supporting his body weight.

"Scott, I-" Gordon mumbled weakly. "I can't."

Scott rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Gordon, no excuses. You're getting out of this pool whether you like it or not."

Gordon shook his head, feeling small and pathetic for the first time in years. "Scotty, I _can't_," he repeated emphatically, locking eyes with his older brother.

Something in Scott's expression changed, and he drew closer to the younger boy. "What's the matter?" he asked again, a hint of fear in his voice. "Is it your back?"

Gordon shook his head again. "No."

Scott put a hand on his shoulder, shaking Gordon gently as the younger man's eyes slid closed. "Gordon," he began calmly. "How long have you been in the pool?"

Gordon frowned slightly, contemplating the question. Looking around, he was surprised to see that a faint orange tinge had settled in the sky above him, indicating that an early sunset was already in motion. Raising his left arm weakly out of the water, he glanced down at his watch, raising an eyebrow when he saw that it was nearing eight o'clock.

"Ummm...." he mumbled uneasily, knowing that Scott wasn't going to like the answer.

"Gordon," Scott warned softly. "How long?"

Swallowing, the aquanaut dropped his gaze to the water. "About two and a half hours."

"What?!" Scott demanded incredulously. "Are you telling me you've been swimming laps like that for _two and a half hours_?!"

Gordon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't realise how much time had passed," he answered quietly, lacking the energy to argue. "I was - I was just thinking..."

"Gordon," Scott said again, his tone more gentle this time.

"About...stuff," Gordon finished, feeling all of five years old as Scott wrapped an arm about his shoulders. They remained that way for a few moments, Gordon fighting off sleep whilst Scott held him protectively.

"Oh, kiddo. What am I supposed to do with you?" the older Tracy sighed fondly, breaking the silence at last.

"Help me outta the pool?" the younger Tracy supplied hopefully, glancing sideways and shooting his brother a winning smile.

Scott chuckled, dropping his arm and pushing away, indicating for Gordon to make another attempt at the ladder. "C'mon, sport," he urged. "The sooner you get out, the sooner you can sleep. But you're gonna be as sore as hell in the morning."

The next few minutes were an upwards struggle for Gordon as he forced his useless muscles to support his weight. He limbs shook from the effort, and he almost fell back into the water at least four or five times - but Scott was behind him the whole way, holding him up when he was unable to support himself. The aquanaut felt guilty and stupid and reckless for having gone against his better judgment and pushed himself so hard. If his old coach ever found out, he'd be skinned alive.

Collapsing onto the deck, panting heavily, Gordon weakly pushed himself into a sitting position, shuffling backwards and leaning against a nearby sun-lounger as he closed his eyes, his body aching from the effort. He saw Scott swiftly climb out of the pool, his shirt and shorts clinging to him as he grabbed Gordon's towel from the chair on the other side of the pool and jogged over to where his younger sibling sat. Wrapping the towel about his shoulders, he crouched down beside him.

"Gords, when was the last time you had something to eat?" he asked worriedly. Gordon bit the inside of his cheek, hating the fact that his brother seemed to be asking all the wrong questions. The older Tracy wasn't going to like this answer, either.

"Lunch," he replied softly, grimacing as Scott's face hardened.

"Gordon!" the older Tracy groaned. "Are you _trying_ to make yourself sick?"

"Stop overreacting, will you," Gordon mumbled, bringing his knees up to his chest and suppressing a shudder as his exhausted body began to cool rapidly. "I was gonna eat something later. I promise."

"Was that before or after you collapsed?" Scott asked sharply, a disapproving frown in place.

Gordon pressed his forehead against his knees. "Dude, stop yelling at me. My head hurts," he whined, not caring that he sounded like a kid half his age.

Scott immediately softened, sitting down beside him and squeezing his brother's shoulder gently. "Sorry, Gordo," he murmured. "I'm just worried about you. You've barely spoken to anybody all day, and then you go and do something stupid like this, and I - I'm sorry, okay?"

"Don't sweat it," Gordon sighed, flexing his fingers and trying to bring some feeling back into limbs. Sighing, he straightened his legs and rotated his shoulders slowly. "I wasn't purposefully trying to avoid everyone," he stated softly. "It's just that you - I mean - I just needed some time to think, ya know? So much happened yesterday, and I'm not sure if I'm okay with it just yet."

Scott put an arm about the smaller Tracy's shoulders, staring across at the villa opposite them as he ran his free hand through his hair.

"You're not supposed to be okay with it, Gords," he replied gently. "Hell, I'm far from okay with it. I'm still at the stage where I would quite happily tear the Hood limb from limb if he were put in the same room as me. And I don't feel guilty about that. We're only human, Gordon, we're allowed to experience emotion when something like this happens."

Gordon smiled softly. "I'm getting this from Mr. Stoic?" he teased.

Scott grinned and ruffled his brother's wet hair, before letting out a sigh and standing to his feet, reaching down to help Gordon up. "C'mon, kiddo," he pressed. "You need food. And I need coffee."

Gordon finished drying himself off, grabbing his shirt from the back of the sun-lounger and donning it as quickly as his sore muscles would allow. Sighing heavily, he scrubbed a hand through his still-damp hair and grinned up at his older brother. "Okay, I'm good."

As the two Tracys slowly made their way back towards the house, Scott's arm wrapped supportively about his younger sibling's shoulder and Gordon feeling as though his weak legs might buckle any second, a soft sound caught their attention. Looking up at the orange-streaked sky, they smiled simultaneously, spotting the faint outline of a jet on the horizon as it began its approach to the island. Gordon frowned slightly, cocking his head to the side.

"Who's that?" he inquired, sounding a little surprised. Scott grinned.

"It's Tom," he replied.

"Tom?" Gordon repeated, his weary face brightening happily. "Ace! Nobody told me he was coming."

"That's what you get for avoiding us all day," Scott answered smoothly, giving Gordon's shoulder a squeeze to show that he was only teasing. "Now c'mon, Goofy. If you think _I'm _paranoid about eating habits, just wait until he finds out that you skipped dinner. He can be equally as forceful as Onaha when he wants to be."

As they reached the top of the stairs, Gordon slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Oh man," he groaned. "Scott, hide me."

"Why?" the older Tracy inquired, continuing to pull his brother towards the bay doors and into the villa.

"Onaha's gonna kill me," he stated, clearly mortified. "You _know_ what she's like about us skipping meals."

Scott grinned, guiding his sibling down the corridor and towards the dining room area. "Well," he reasoned. "At least it'll teach you not to neglect the need for food in the future. I'm actually looking forward to seeing her face when I tell her about this."

Pausing at the doorway, Gordon turned to look up at Scott with an expression of disbelief. "You wouldn't," he stated.

Scott let out a laugh. "Oh, believe me, I would."

"Scott, you can't tell her!" Gordon protested desperately, something akin to panic dawning in his eyes.

"Tell me what?"

Both men froze as the soft Malaysian voice sounded from within the dining room. Onaha was leaning against the serving counter, a dish-cloth held in her hand as she raised a questioning eyebrow at the two Tracy boys. Gordon swiveled around with a 'deer-caught-in-the-headlights' look upon his face. Swallowing forcefully, he smiled his most winning of smiles. However, the motherly housekeeper wasn't buying it.

"What is it you want - or, rather, _don't_ want to tell me?" she pressed, setting the cloth down beside her and regarding them steadily.

"I'm pregnant," Gordon squeaked out.

In the short silence that followed, Scott turned to look at Gordon incredulously, a 'what-the-heck-was-that?' expression planted firmly upon his face. Gordon spread his hands, shrugging defensively.

"It was the first thing that came to mind," he protested in a loud whisper.

Scott's eyebrows shot up to immeasurable heights. "Male pregnancy was the first thing that came to your mind?" he repeated. Looking away, he shook his head. "For both our sakes, let's just pretend this didn't happen, okay?"

Gordon elbowed his brother in the ribs, but he was smiling. "Jerk."

"Gordon," Onaha called, her tone soft but firm. "I want you on my kitchen within the next five seconds, understood?"

Gordon nodded, realising that he'd been let off lightly, and darted across the room and into the kitchen, Onaha following close behind. As Scott turned to head out of the room, he paused, hearing his name being called. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled at the black-haired woman expectantly. Onaha had paused at the doorway to the kitchen and was looking back at Scott with a mildly amused expression upon her face.

"Scott, please inform your father that the coffee cup I found hidden beneath the file in his office _will_ be added to his overall total," she asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh and tell him that, in the future, he hide the evidence somewhere less obvious. I promised Tom that I would keep a record of how much coffee your father consumed, but, for his sake, I am willing to overlook the quantity that he drank at four o'clock this morning. You'll tell him that for me, won't you, sweetheart?"

Scott smirked. "Yes, ma'am. Right away."

Stepping out into the hallway, Scott couldn't suppress the grin that exploded across his face. When Thomas Palmar finally arrived on the island, Scott had a feeling that his family's world would brighten considerably. And, as long as his father could survive without the caffeine boosts, everything would soon be back to normal. Thomas had that effect on people.

Oh yes. The next few days with the family doctor were going to be interesting.

* * *

**_In the next chapter, Thomas Palmar finally arrives on Tracy island? How will the family respond to his presence? And how will Jeff react to being deprived of his caffeine fix? And how will the brothers react when they see the footage from the Bank of London? Find out next time!_**

**_Thanks for reading! Don't know when the next chapter will be out, 'cause I'm going off to New York (woo hoo!) on Thursday. Hopefully I'll be feeling a little less 'bleh' by then. If I can. I'll post chapter 5 before I go, but I can't make any promises._**

**_Please REVIEW and make me smile! And again, any and all typo-pointers are very much appreciated. :^D_**

**_xoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	5. Chapter 5: The Family Doctor

**_Zooooom!_**

**_Would you look at this speedy update? C'mon, guys, I know you're impressed. How could you ever top this kinda perfection? :^D_**

**_Lol, joke. I'm not THAT big-headed. Thanks for all the great reviews, they made my week! Plus I'm over my stomach bug now ('grins triumphantly'), so I'm a happy bunny!_**

**_(To 'astarael_7th') - Thanks for all the helpful typo-pointers! No matter how many times I look through a chapter, there are always at least three or four teeny-weeny errors that I don't spot. I'm glad somebody else does! Although, for chapter two, I was actually right when I wrote 'arguments'. Jeff was speaking in the plural, so....yeah. Oh, and lol, 'concrit' is the shortened version of 'constructive criticism'. Generally speaking, the latter is too much of a bother to type, so I shorten it. I think people usually get the gist of what I mean, once they've adapted to my weird ways. Lol! But thanks for all the other pointers, I really appreciate the help! ('grins')_**

**_And on that note, this chapter is especially for 'astarael_7th' as an early birthday present. Happy Birthday, hun! Hope you have a great day! :^D And 'thundercrimson' - you owe me a jar of virtual non-chocolate cookies! :^D_**

**_Now read on.....and enjoy!_**

* * *

Thomas Palmar reached up towards the control panel above his head and cut the power to his small jet, hearing the low buzz of the engines simmer down and finally cease as he keyed in the sequence to lock the systems down. Unbuckling his safety harness, he swiftly exited the cockpit, grabbing his luggage from a nearby seat on his way to the passenger door. Pausing for a moment, he slung his duffel bag over one shoulder, reaching across to the panel beside the hatch and keying in the access code. The hatch unlocked with a dull _'click', _the section of the jet wall opening outwards before him, creating a small row of steps leading out of the aircraft.

Thomas waited until a second _'click' _confirmed that the open hatch had locked into place, before bending down to pick up his small satchel of medical equipment. Descending the steps quickly, he scanned his surroundings, taking in the familiar sights of the spacious aircraft hanger. True, it wasn't anywhere near as spacious as the Thunderbird silos, but still, in comparison with the small hanger he had back at the hospital, it was massive.

"Tom!"

The doctor's head snapped to the left, his gaze locking onto the figure who had just stepped out of the elevator against the far wall. Grinning, Thomas strode towards the other man, not bothering to close the hatch behind him. After all, they _were_ on an island. It wasn't as if burglary was a major problem for the Tracy family.

Thomas grimaced. _Probably shouldn't be saying that, considering the fact that the island was invaded by a bunch of psychopaths yesterday. Man, it's still so hard to believe. We all thought they were safe on the island. We all thought the base was a secret. But I guess we were wrong. And dammit, I almost lost them._

Dropping his luggage onto the floor, the ex-NASA employee stopped in front of Jeff and wordlessly pulled his ex-colleague into a firm embrace, feeling Jeff reciprocate the hold. They remained that way for a long moment, until finally Thomas decided that it would be a good idea to allow Jeff to breathe again. Clapping his friend firmly on the back, the doctor loosened his hold and withdrew half a step, his hands sliding down from around Jeff's shoulders to grip at the Tracy father's forearms tightly. He gazed steadily into the other man's face for several seconds, before raising a disapproving eyebrow.

"You look terrible," he stated flatly.

A small grin flitted across Jeff's face and he laughed softly, bending down to pick up his friend's duffel bag. "It's good to see you too, Tom."

Thomas smirked and grabbed his satchel off the floor, slinging his other arm about Jeff's shoulders as the two adults stepped into the lift. As the doors _'hissed'_ closed, he took another quick glance at the Tracy patriarch's exhausted features. Trying to keep the frown of worry off his face, he cleared his throat and smiled brightly.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologised cheerfully. "I got ambushed outside the hospital by a terrifying, tea-loving aristocrat."

Jeff let out an explosive snort, shaking his head as he glanced sideways at the doctor. "Who, Penny?" At Thomas' nod of confirmation, he rolled his eyes. "She hates it when you call her that. Better not say it in front of her, she may resort to violence if she feels threatened. What was she doing at Brookfield, anyway?"

Thomas cleared his throat again, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and suddenly finding the ceiling rather interesting. Jeff raised an eyebrow at his friend's uncharacteristic behaviour. Nudging the other man with his elbow to get his attention, he gazed at him questioningly. Thomas' shoulders sagged and he sighed deeply, almost in resignation.

"She wanted to give me the security footage from London," he stated softly. Smiling, he shook his head. "She has friends in high places, that woman. Of course, when I asked her for names, she merely replied that if she told me, she'd have to kill me. Naturally, that only increased my curiosity-" At Jeff's grin, Thomas smiled cunningly, before sobering up once more. "Anyway, Penny and her....anonymous colleagues....have managed to swipe all the evidence from the Bank of London, as well as the CCTV footage of the Thunderbirds landing in Jubilee Gardens."

Jeff nodded mutely, having completely forgotten that the day's events had been recorded by technology. _Dammit, why didn't I think of this before? The camera footage from the island might have given me a better idea as to what went on yesterday when I was up on Five. I'm gonna have to remember to look over it with Brains later this evening._

"...won't you, Jeff? Jeff?!"

Jeff blinked himself out of his own thoughts, his head snapping up towards his best friend as he caught the last part of the doctor's question. "Sorry, I was miles away there. What were you saying?"

Thomas regarded him steadily. "I was asking if you were gonna show the footage to the other boys," he replied softly.

"I guess I'm gonna have to," Jeff sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They won't like what they see, though. But - but they need to know what happened. I'll show it to them later." Then his face darkened slightly, and a small spark of determination flared in his eyes. "But not when Alan's in the room."

Thomas nodded his head in understanding. "You don't want the kid to face it all again so soon?"

Jeff leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed heavily. "He's still so quiet, Tom. It's - it's not like him. I thought things were getting better this morning, but now," he paused rubbing a hand over his face. "Now I don't know what to think. He's barely eaten anything all day. That's not normal behaviour, Tom - not for a Tracy. Something's still wrong, and I don't know what it is. I just feel so darn _useless_!"

"Hey," Thomas murmured, putting a hand on the Tracy patriarch's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. "He's gonna be alright, Jeff. He just needs time to think things through. He's still just a kid - recovering from this isn't gonna be a walk in the park for him. But he'll get there eventually. All you have to do is be there for him when he needs you. That's all any of us can do right now."

Jeff raised an eyebrow as the doctor finished his short speech. "When did you become so mature?"

Thomas frowned slightly, cocking his head to the side. "You know what?" he mused. "I have no idea. Aw dang - I'm growin' up, aren't I?"

Jeff smiled, shaking his head. "That's what marriage does to you, pal."

"I'm getting a divorce," the doctor answered instantly.

Laughing, Jeff waved off the remark. "If you can't last more than day without contacting your wife over the vid-phone," he smiled. "How the heck would you be able to survive a divorce?"

Thomas grinned. "Guess that plan's out of the question, then. Ah well, at least Jennifer's gonna be happy. Oh, speaking of Jen, she arrives back from Dhaka next week. Penny's already told her about everything that's happened to the team, and she seems pretty adamant about visiting the island once she's organised a few things back at home. She figured you'd probably want all the help you could get."

Jeff smiled, nodding his head in agreement. Jennifer and Thomas had married less than a year ago, but already she was fully integrated into the International Rescue team, and had quickly become a central member of the family. She, like Onaha, had adopted the boys as her 'nephews', and her optimistic and positively energetic view on life created a certain cheerful buzz around the island that always seemed to spread to each of its occupants within minutes. You couldn't stay blue for long when Jennifer and Thomas were around. Together, they were the ultimate anti-depressant. Of course, Jeff never told any of this to Thomas. He didn't want to inflate the doctor's ego.

"Jeff?" Thomas said suddenly, his voice perfectly neutral. "You do realise we've been standing in here for almost five minutes now?" Jeff glanced around at the walls of the elevator, suddenly realising where he was. Thomas pointed towards the panel beside the closed doors. "You forgot to push the button."

Jeff frowned defensively. "So did you."

"I thought you'd pushed it," Thomas replied, an identical frown sliding into place.

"And _I_ thought _you'd_ pushed it," Jeff sighed, very much the twenty-year-old who had first clashed with the other man over a circuitry panel at the NASA advanced training centre, over twenty-seven years ago.

"Why would _I_ want to push it? It's not my elevator," the doctor stated, spreading his hands to emphasise his point.

"What?!" Jeff's eyebrows shot up. "What's that got to do with anything? Just 'cause it's not your elevator doesn't mean you can't-"

"Fine! Fine, okay, I'll push it!" Thomas exclaimed dramatically, reaching over towards the panel and pressing his thumb against the middle button. "There, happy?!"

"Very," the Tracy patriarch replied, an almost child-like huff in his voice.

A few seconds of silence ticked by, before both men glanced at each other simultaneously, grinned like Cheshire cats, and let out identical explosive snorts. Thomas had to lean against the side of the elevator in order to keep upright.

"If Jen could've heard us then," he chuckled. "She'd have enough ammo against us to last a lifetime."

"Which is why it's gonna stay between us," Jeff added, straightening up at looking at his friend meaningfully. "If the boys get wind of this, I'll never live it down."

Thomas nodded in agreement, just as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open with a soft _'hiss'. _Stepping out into the office, Thomas readjusted the strap of the satchel over his shoulder, grinning cheerfully as he strode towards the bespectacled figure on the other side of the spacious room.

"Hiya, Brains," he greeted, clapping the scientist on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "Good to see you."

Brains smiled in return, setting down the data-pad he'd been working on and shaking Tom's hand. "N-n-n-great to see you too, Dr. Palmar."

Thomas groaned loudly, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. "_Tom_, Brains, it's _Tom_," he sighed, although there was a distinctly playful note in his voice which eradicated all pretence of annoyance. "How're you holding up?"

Brains smiled again, although it was a little more forced than before. "Good," he replied. "P-p-rather busy, but otherwise okay."

Thomas grinned. "Glad to hear it. How's Fermat?"

Brain's face clouded over slightly, and Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze just as he had done with Jeff in the elevator. The scientist looked up again, and green eyes met green eyes for a long moment as the doctor regarded the other man steadily. Thomas could understand Brains' concern. Fermat was his only child, and the relationship between father and son had always been strong. It was only natural that he was worried about the kid. But on top of that, the added stress from the injuries that Alan and John had received were bound to be affecting Brains in some way.

Before they had joined the Tracy family on the island, the Hackenbackers had been a two-man team. They'd fully relied on each other for support and love, and that was - as Brains had put it - how their happy little family had 'functioned' for many years. But it hadn't taken them long to integrate themselves into the Tracy family. Fermat had soon become one of Jeff's boys, protected by the Tracy clan in a way the young Hackenbacker could never know. And as for Hiram, he had gained five nephews.

Brains was as close to the Tracy boys as Thomas himself, and so the doctor could fully understand what the scientist was going through internally. The guilt, the anger, the frustration - oh yes, Thomas felt it, too.

"Hey Jeff," he said suddenly, releasing Brains' shoulder and turning to face the Tracy patriarch. "What d'you say we go find those kids of yours, hmm? I think it's high time that 'Uncle Tom' says hello."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Gordon swallowed down the last bite of his fourth sandwich, picking up his glass and draining the last dregs of milk from the bottom. Setting it down beside his empty plate on the kitchen counter, his smiled happily, his stomach filled to the point of total satisfaction - at least by Tracy standards.

_That's more like it._

Onaha appeared beside him, her fingers carding slowly through his short hair - which, he noted, was still slightly damp from swimming. His shorts, too, were still a little wet, and were beginning to make his thighs feel cold as they stuck to the skin. _I'd better go get changed before I forget about it and end up sitting down on one of the couches. That wouldn't be a wise move. Onaha would kill me!_

"Would you like anything else, sweetheart?" the Malaysian woman asked kindly, picking up Gordon's plate. The copper-haired Tracy smiled up at her, raising a hand and shaking his head to decline the offer.

"No thanks," he replied, patting his stomach with his free hand. "I'm sunk."

"I'm glad to hear it," Onaha laughed softly, stepping across to the other side of the spacious kitchen and loading the plate into a slot in the large dish washer. Gordon closed his eyes and sighed heavily, leaning his head in his hands for a long moment. Man, he was tired.

Despite going to bed early, per Virgil's orders, he hadn't been able to get much sleep the previous evening. The sounds and smells and sights of the day's events had swirled around him constantly, playing upon his weary mind, and he had found it difficult to drop off into the land of dreams. The consequences of that, plus the fact that he'd just put his body through a dangerously grueling workout in the pool, totalled up to one very achey and exhausted Olympic swimmer. Gordon wasn't used to feeling like this. He was supposed to be the ever-energetic and overly optimistic Tracy. He felt, in all senses of the word, pathetic.

Suddenly, he felt a large hand placed in between his shoulder blades. Glancing upwards, he blinked the fuzziness out of his vision, a wide smile breaking out across his face. The older man grinned down at him, warmth and laughter shining in his green eyes.

"What's this?" Thomas Palmar asked, feigning surprise. "Is the fish finally outta battery? Oh, thank God." Gordon rolled his eyes at the comment, and Thomas' grin widened to infinite proportions. "C'mere, sport."

Hopping down from the stool, Gordon returned the embrace as the doctor pulled him into a tight hug. When at last he drew back, he used a hand to measure Gordon's height against him.

"Nope," he said finally, ruffling Gordon's hair. "Still not as tall as me, kiddo. Keep eating your greens and you'll get there some day."

Gordon chuckled at the familiar line, grinning at Onaha as the Malaysian woman approached them, a fond smile upon her face. Thomas extracted his arm from around Gordon's shoulders and allowed Onaha to kiss him on the cheek.

"How was your flight?" she enquired, moving over to wipe the crumbs off the counter where Gordon had been eating his meal.

"Good, thanks," Thomas replied, scrubbing a hand through his hair and leaning against the work table in the centre of the room. "Wind speeds were perfect. Which is kinda surprising, really, considering the bad weather we've been having over the Pacific recently."

Onaha nodded in agreement, setting down the cloth and drying her hands on her apron. "Can I get you anything, dear?"

Thomas raised his hand and shook his head, declining the offer just as Gordon had done before. "Thanks, but no," he smiled. "I ate before I set off."

Gordon pushed himself up to sit on top of the counter, swinging his legs to and fro absently. He glanced over towards the doorway, a slight frown upon his face as he chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. _That's odd. I figured Dad would be the first to greet Tom. But maybe he's had a call or something._

"Hey Tom," Gordon piped up, deciding to verbalise his musings. "Have you seen Dad yet?"

Thomas turned to look at him, before nodding his head and smiling. "Yup," he answered casually. "We had a cat fight in the elevator."

Gordon raised an eyebrow, choking out a puff of laughter. "What?"

Thomas suddenly slapped a hand to his forehead. "That was supposed to be a secret!" he exclaimed, mock-horror lining his voice. "Oopsy."

Gordon felt a grin blossom across his face. "What were you arguing about?" he inquired, his curiosity spiking.

"Nuh-uh," Thomas drawled, shaking his head. "You're not getting anythin' outta me, kiddo."

"Aw, c'mon," Gordon pressed. "You know you wanna tell me."

Thomas laughed, holding up his hands. "Nope," he stated. "My lips are sealed. If you wanna hear the details, go ask your father."

Gordon hopped off the counter, feeling his weak muscles pull at the sudden movement, and waggled his eyebrows cheekily at the older man.

"Where is he?"

Thomas chuckled again. "He had to do something in his office," the doctor replied. "I'm meeting him in the infirmary in a few minutes, so I'd better head down. Although..." Thomas paused, glancing across the room to where Onaha was putting ingredients back into the pantry. "Onaha? Since Jeff isn't here, I might as well ask you now. So - how many?"

Onaha turned around, a slight smile tugging at her lips as her brown eyes sparkled. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Thomas groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "That many, huh?"

"That many what?" Gordon asked, looking between the two adults in confusion. Then it clicked, and he hid a snort of laughter behind a well placed cough, falling silent as he looked towards Onaha expectantly. The dark haired woman let out a soft sigh.

"Well.....it was more than you recommended," she replied at last, sending the doctor a knowing look. "Quite a lot more, in fact. He hasn't been sleeping, either."

Thomas massaged his temples, letting out a sigh of frustration, before glancing back up and looking meaningfully at the Tracy housekeeper.

"He's gonna have a nervous breakdown if he keeps this up," he stated, concern shining in his eyes. "Listen, I know this is probably gonna hurt us a lot more than it does him - but, if at all possible, would you be able to keep him off the coffee for a few days?"

Gordon let out an explosive snort at such a preposterous suggestion.

"I mean it," Thomas stated. "I'm putting my foot down this time."

"Good luck," Gordon mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding the frown that Thomas sent his way.

The doctor ignored the copper-haired Tracy for a moment, keeping his gaze locked onto Onaha's. "He can have _one _cup in the morning, if he's desperate," he reasoned, trying not to smile at Onaha's skeptical expression. "But I'm worried about what all this added stress will be doing to his blood pressure. Caffeine certainly won't be helping matters."

The olive-skinned woman nodded in agreement, smiling softly. "I will do my best," she replied. "But you know Mr. Tracy - he can be a very stubborn man."

"Tell me about it," Thomas groaned. Then, with another grateful smile, he snagged Gordon by the arm and began heading out of the room. "Thanks, Ohaha. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on the Tracys for you. Make sure that the coffee pot is under lock and key, and everything'll be just fine."

They exited the kitchen, Onaha's warm laughter floating out behind them, and walked across the dining room together and out into the corridor. Gordon smiled as Thomas tossed an arm about his shoulders again, the taller man - although only by half an inch or so - squeezing him gently as they began to stroll in the direction of the left wing of the villa, where the infirmary was located.

"So," Thomas sighed, breaking the short silence that had fallen between them. "How come you're not in the pool, kiddo? That's where I first expected to find you. I actually came down to the kitchen to talk to Onaha about....you know....caffeine." At Gordon's grin, the doctor cleared his throat, eyes sparkling, and continued, "But I hadn't expected to see you in there. What's the matter? Did the fish get sick of its tank at last?"

"Nah, I was just eating dinner, that's all," Gordon replied absently, before clamping his mouth shut. _Oh darn._

But the cogs were clearly already beginning to turn within Tom's mind. The older man turned to look at him, his pace slowing as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"How come you left it so late?" he inquired, glancing down at his watch momentarily.

Gordon swallowed, before plastering a neutral expression onto his face and shrugging dismissively. "Guess I just forgot."

"You.....forgot?" Thomas repeated slowly, his voice lined with skepticism. "Gordon, you of all people should know that I'm not easily fooled. Tracy men don't just 'forget' about food."

Gordon sighed in resignation. "Fine, fine," he grumbled, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I was swimming, alright?"

"Ah," Tom smiled, holding up a finger. "Now that's a better explanation. Wait a sec.....you swam until past eight o'clock on an empty stomach?"

The doctor's tone was no longer light and teasing. It had taken on the same disapproving and slightly frustrated note that Virgil's voice always bore whenever he was scolding Gordon about something he had - or hadn't - done.

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, the aquanaut grinned over at the doctor with as much false bravado as he could muster. "I was just burning off some steam," he reasoned. "The pools were only refilled at about five, so I was making up for lost time."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you look like crap."

"Hey!" Gordon protested, pretending to be highly offended by the playful insult. Thomas smiled, reaching over towards the younger man and messing up his hair teasingly, grinning as Gordon batted his hand away.

A few moments later, and they had arrived at the infirmary. Thomas stepped into the room, smiling cheerfully, and was immediately greeted by a smaller brown-haired figure.

"Hey, doc!"

Thomas sighed heavily. "It's Tom, Virgil," he stated in a long-suffering voice. Then he broke into a grin and chuckled softly, reaching out to pull the shorter man into a firm hug. Virgil returned the embrace and Tom smiled, feeling as though he were home at last. He'd missed his boys.

"Aw, ain't that cute," came a mumbled comment from somewhere to his right.

Thomas drew back, glancing sideways at the nearby bed, and his face darkened slightly, a concerned frown drifting across his features for a split second, before being replaced by a cheerful expression once more. Walking up to the bedside, Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"You got something to say, Blondie?" he challenged, the sparkle in his eyes belying his gruff tone of voice.

John smiled up at him sleepily, shifting slightly in his position on the mattress. He was sitting upright on the bed, propped up by carefully positioned pillows around his neck, shoulders and lower back. The centre of his back, however, had clearly been avoided for obvious reasons. Thomas took these details in, his mind running over the symptoms and injuries that Virgil had already informed him of.

Reaching out, Thomas clapped a hand on John's shoulder, leaning down so that their heads were level.

"How're ya doin', Johnny?" he inquired, his tone softer and more serious that before.

John shrugged and held up his left hand (the right hand being restricted by the sling holding his arm), sighing deeply as his weary blue eyes locked with Thomas' bright green ones.

"I keep telling Virge that I'm fine," he replied calmly. "But for some reason, he doesn't seem to want to believe me."

Thomas tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That's odd," he mused. "You look perfectly alright to me."

"Don't tell him that!" Virgil exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him in mock distress. "Johnny doesn't have a sense of humour!"

John frowned sleepily, glaring up at his younger brother and grumbling, "You're not exactly a bundle of laughs yourself, Chuckles."

"Ladies, let's not argue," Thomas intervened, as calm and casual as ever. Both Tracy men frowned in his direction, and he smirked cunningly. "John, I think somebody needs a nap, don't you?"

John closed his eyes. "Good idea," he agreed. "Virgil - bedtime."

Thomas sighed, putting his hands on his hips and unknowingly doing a rather accurate impression of Onaha as he regarded the second-eldest Tracy son with an amused and knowing expression upon his face.

"Stop looking at me like that," John mumbled, wincing as he rotated his stiff shoulder. "You're gonna give me a complex."

Laughing, the doctor perched on the edge of the mattress, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and extracting his penlight. Virgil moved around to the other side of the bed, picking up a data-pad and beginning to jot down notes rapidly, giving Thomas the room he needed to examine his patient.

"Hold still," the doctor instructed, putting two fingers beneath John's chin as he shone the light first in one eye, then in the other.

John raised an eyebrow, submitting to the examination without a fight. "You keep a penlight in your pocket?"

"I'm a doctor, genius," Thomas stated, although the tone of his voice was lightly teasing. "What did you think I'd have, peanuts?"

John closed his eyes, wincing. "Maybe you like elephants," he suggested flatly.

"That's a definite possibility," the doctor agreed absently, his eyes darting upwards to glance over the monitors above the bed. "Elephants are, after all, in surplus population at the moment. They've been a real pest-control issue for the hospital over the past few months."

As John smiled sleepily, Thomas slipped the penlight back into his pocket. Then, reaching across the weary Tracy's chest, he carefully unsnapped the support sling from the shoulder strap, gently extracting John's arm from within it and slowly straightening the limb out. John grimaced, stiffening slightly at the ache that radiated up his arm, clenching his teeth together in an attempt to hide the pain.

"Sorry," Thomas murmured, his fingers pressing along the length of the limb as he searched for any swelling or unexpected tenderness in the forearm. "I just wanna take a look at it. Don't worry, I'll leave you alone in a sec, and then you can get some sleep, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," John moaned out, clearly lacking the energy to think of a witty retort to the doctor's comment.

At last, Thomas seemed satisfied. With the expertise of a practiced healer, he carefully maneuvered the limb back inside the sling, clipping it onto the shoulder strap so that it hung across John's chest as it had done before.

"Can I take a look at your back?" Thomas asked softly, sharing a glance with Virgil as he spoke. The younger medic set the data-pad down on the bedside table, pushing the IV pole aside as he put a hand on John's shoulder.

"Sure," the blond astronaut grunted. "Be my guest."

Virgil looped his arm around John's shoulders, supporting him upright as he nodded at Tom to activate the switch that would lower the top end of the bed back down again. Once done, Thomas grabbed a pair of surgical gloves from the box on top of the metal trolley at the end of the bed, donning them swiftly as he stepped up to John's side. As Virgil helped a weary John to remain sitting upright, Thomas carefully lifted the blue cotton shirt, holding it still as he pealed back the dressing. Wincing sympathetically at the ugly, palm-sized burn in the centre of the younger man's back, he shook his head.

_Yup, definitely second degree. Bordering on third, by the looks of things. Man, that's gotta smart something dreadful._

Carefully smoothing the edges of the dressing back down, avoiding touching the centre of the white square for obvious reasons, Thomas pulled the shirt over the bare skin and squeezed John's shoulder.

"Okay, all done," he stated. "Let's get you settled, hmm?"

With Virgil's help, Thomas managed to carefully roll John onto his left side, his uninjured arm leaning against the mattress beneath him. Pulling the blankets up and over the tall form, Thomas bent down closer, brushing a hand through John's hair habitually. To him, John and the other Tracy boys were still just kids. After all, when you'd changed somebody's diapers and fed them mashed banana using the old _'here comes the space rocket' _line, you never really accepted that they were fully grown once they reached adulthood. Especially since Thomas was quite adamant that he himself was still in the prime of his youth.

"When was the last time you took something for the pain?" he inquired gently, reaching over to dim the lights above the bed.

"D'you mean when did Virge last jab me with a needle?" John mumbled lightly, his eyes sliding closed completely. "Dunno. Ask him."

Virgil chuckled fondly, shaking his head in amusement. Meeting Thomas' gaze, he replied, "Just over half an hour ago. That's why he's so - you know-"

"Drunk," John interjected flatly.

Gordon snorted loudly from the other side of the room, and Thomas turned towards him to make a comment. However he paused, momentarily surprised, as he spotted the smaller blond-haired figure sitting on the second infirmary bed. Thomas frowned to himself. _How did I fail to notice the kid's presence when he's only over there? Well, I suppose I **am** used to him talking at one-hundred miles an hour. I haven't seen him this quiet since - well - ever. That's never a good sign._

Striding across the room, Thomas came to a halt in front of the youngest Tracy son. Alan had a faraway look in his eyes, as though he were staring right through the man who stood before him. The doctor frowned again, this time directing his concern towards the patient on the bed, reaching out to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Alan?" he called softly.

The blond-haired teenager jumped mightily, clearly startled out of whatever daze he'd been in. A flash of pain flitted across his face as his wide eyes darted around, before the blue orbs finally glanced up and locked with Thomas' steady gaze.

"Tom?" he asked, surprise and confusion lining his voice. Thomas grinned.

"Hey there, tiger," he greeted cheerfully, ruffling Alan's hair. "You miss me?"

Alan smiled up at him, his aqua-blue eyes gaining their usual sparkle. Thomas felt a little of the worry ebb away as he wrapped his arms around Alan's smaller form and hugged him gently, mindful of the boy's injuries. Man, he'd missed the kid more than he realised. He'd missed all the Tracy boys. He hadn't been able to find the time to visit them since Christmas and, despite having shared frequent vid-phone conversations with each of them, it still hadn't been quite the same.

When Gordon had suffered his terrible hydrofoil accident less than eighteen months ago, Thomas had practically lived on Tracy Island for three months whilst the teenager had recovered. During that time, he had made strong bonds with each of the island's occupants, even with the Belegants (who, at the time, had only been living with the Tracy family for a matter of weeks). Despite how much he loved his work at the hospital, unless his wife was with him the only place he truly felt at home was on Tracy Island. And with Jennifer working at the teaching hospital in Dhaka for one in every three months, Thomas had always tried to sneak in a visit at least once a fortnight.

"Have you seen Scott?"

Thomas snapped out of his own thoughts, turning to look at Virgil. The medic was standing beside Gordon at the window, fiddling absently with his stethoscope as he frowned to himself.

"No," Thomas replied, keeping his voice low as he realised that John had fallen asleep on the other side of the infirmary.

"He went to talk to Fermat about something," Alan interjected softly, rubbing a hand wearily over his face and suppressing a yawn. "I met him on the way down here. He said he'd be back soon."

Gordon frowned, pushing himself away from the wall and coming to stand beside his younger brother's bed.

"Hey Al," he began, leaning against the mattress as he spoke. "How come you're still stuck in here with _this_ tyrant?" He indicated Virgil with a jerk of his head, ignoring the annoyed glare the older Tracy sent his way. "I thought he said you'd be free to go after just one night."

Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but Alan beat him to it. "I _am_ free to go," he replied calmly. "But John isn't, and I figured that he might want some company, that's all."

Thomas found himself smiling fondly at the young teenager. He knew to what extent Alan loathed being in the infirmary - hell, he'd even gone as far as to try and escape out of the window with a concussion on one occasion. But his desire to keep John company showed a deeper side to the boy; a side that Tom hadn't seen in quite a while, what with stubborn teenage hormones and all. But Alan loved his siblings as much as life itself. All the Tracy children followed that same basic principle. It was integrated into their genetic coding, and no amount of needles, antiseptics or scalpels could deter one brother from the other.

_Aaw. Cute._

Suddenly, the doors _'swished'_ open, and Jeff stepped into the room, a grim and almost sad look upon his face. Scott followed close behind, a concerned frown tugging at his brow as he regarded his father silently. Thomas saw him share a quick glance with Virgil, before his attention returned to the Tracy patriarch as Jeff cleared his throat softly.

"Gordon, Scott, Virgil," the older man began, looking at each son briefly, before letting out a sigh and glancing towards Tom. "Could you boys go wait in my office? Brains and Kyrano are already there."

The three brothers shared glances silently, non-verbally asking each other what their father wanted them for. When they realised that none of them knew, they each gave a shrug and turned towards the infirmary doors; Scott pausing long enough to ruffle Alan's hair and check on a sleeping John, before he quickly followed his other siblings out into the corridor.

"Dad?" Alan ventured, looking more than a little confused. "What's going on?"

Jeff sighed softly, stepping up to his youngest son's bedside and reaching out to run his fingers through the blond hair. Bringing his hand to rest lightly against the side of Alan's neck, he locked eyes with the smaller Tracy, brushing his thumb gently over the warm skin beneath his touch.

"Alan," he murmured, before pausing and taking a deep breath. "Penny gave Tom the security footage from London. And Brains just pulled out the island's security cam records."

Alan paled, his eyes clouding over as he finally realised what his father was referring to. "Oh," he breathed softly, his gaze dropping down to his lap. "Right."

As Thomas walked over to John's bedside in order to give them a little more privacy, Jeff cupped his son's face with both hands, forcing Alan to look up at him. "Your brothers need to see it," he stated gently. "They still don't know what went on yesterday when - when we were up on Five. And, to be totally honest with you, I don't either. We need to be able to understand what happened to you, kiddo. That's the only way any of us are gonna be able to get through this."

Alan nodded, swallowing heavily. "Do I," he croaked, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Do I have to watch it too?"

Jeff hugged the smaller form to his chest. "You will at some point, son," he murmured. "But not now. Not until you're ready."

"Is Fermat gonna see it?" Alan asked tentatively. "He kinda already knows what happened in the Bank, but...."

Jeff nodded his head slowly. "He and Tin-Tin need to watch it, too," he replied. "Fermat might watch it this evening, but Tin-Tin's wanted to see it another time. I think she's nervous about how the boys will react to - to what she did in the Bank."

Alan glanced up at his father, suddenly looking worried. "You don't think they're gonna be mad at her, do you? You know, for - for having powers and stuff."

Jeff smiled softly, shaking his head. "Son, have your brothers _ever_ been mad at Tin-Tin before?" he asked. At Alan's blank expression, he elaborated. "No matter who her other relations are, she's as much a part of this family as Fermat is. Your brothers feel that way about her, too. And besides, she-" he swallowed, suddenly looking as pale as Alan. "She saved your life, Alan. If she hadn't shown up when she did, you'd.....you'd be-"

Alan reached up and wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders, hugging the older man tightly. Jeff immediately responded to the embrace, burying his face in Alan's hair and swallowing mightily to ease the painful ache in his throat. He inhaled slowly, tightening his grip on Alan's shirt, wanting to reassure himself that his boy, his baby, was still alive.

They remained that way for several minutes, before Jeff finally withdrew, running his hands down Alan's arms and smiling at the boy shakily.

"I'll be back soon, son," he stated softly. "Try and get some sleep while I'm gone, alright? And be good for Tom."

Alan nodded, and Jeff ruffled his hair one last time, before turning around and swiftly exiting through the infirmary doors. Alan sat on the bed, gazing at the closed doors silently as thoughts and feelings ran through his mind like wildfire. He didn't even register the presence of the doctor at his bedside until Thomas spoke up.

"I've taken away his coffee, by the way."

Alan blinked, glancing up at the older man in surprise. "Sorry?"

"I said," Thomas smiled, pushing himself up onto the mattress beside the teenager. "I've taken your dad's coffee away from him. He's only allowed one cup a day for the next week."

Alan felt a small smile tugging at his lips, even as a disbelieving eyebrow began to ascend upwards. "Seriously?"

Thomas nodded. "Yup."

"Good luck," Alan mumbled. "You're gonna need it."

Thomas chuckled softly, slinging an arm about the young Tracy's shoulders. Alan sighed heavily, leaning into the doctor's side as he let out another yawn, sucking in a massive breath as he did so. Then he stiffened, grunting softly, and put a hand to his ribcage.

"Is the pain any worse?" Thomas asked softly, squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand.

"A little," Alan murmured in reply.

Thomas glanced down at the teenager. "Mind if I take a look?" he inquired gently. "It's been nearly three years since I last had to treat you for something, and I've kinda missed being your doctor."

Alan smiled up at him. "You're so weird."

Thomas grinned, hopping off the bed energetically. "I know!"

Chuckling softly, Alan relented to being examined by the doctor. After all, Tom _was _very persuasive. And Alan - although he could, on occasions, be rather irrational and foolish in his actions - wasn't a total idiot. He wasn't about to argue with the old family friend. He was a great guy, but his protective nature coupled with his medical training and years of experience made him totally unmovable in the face of Tracy stubbornness.

Quite simply, arguing with Thomas Palmar was like arguing with a solid brick wall - utterly pointless and just a tad eccentric.

* * *

**_In the next chapter, we discover how the Tracy boys react to seeing the camera footage from the eventful day in question. What will their response be to learning about Tin-Tin's powers? Is Jeff right about how they will take it? Find out next time!_**

**_Yes, I know, this wasn't exactly where I had originally planned to leave it. But the next section (I've already written about two thirds of it) was over 3000 words long, which, when finished, would have brought this chapter to the 11,000 marker. And I thought that was just a 'little' bit too big. So I decided to end it here, on a positive note, and save the Tracy angst/worry/major comfort for next time. After all, I don't want to rush things, do I?_**

**_Do me a huge favour and PLEASE REVIEW! I love getting your feedback! And concrit (or 'constructive criticism', just so I don't confuse you, ast....lol!) is welcomed and appreciated. But allow me to emphasise 'constructive', just in case our phantom flamer is still lurking in the shadows somewhere._**

**_Right, since I've managed to post this tonight, I may be able to answer a few of your reviews before I leave tomorrow afternoon. My plane sets off early evening, but we have to be at the airport early afternoon. Anybody who's been to a British airport will know why. :^D London's ten times worse, trust me._**

**_Anyway, I'll be back on Tuesday evening! Have a great weekend, and Happy Easter!_**

**_Laters! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	6. Chapter 6: A Dark Trip Down Memory Lane

**_Hiya!_**

**_Yup, I'm back from the States, jet-lagged but alive, and ready to continue with the story! _****_Thanks for all the super-duper reviews, guys! It was great to see some new faces (well.....pennames) in amongst the familiar fanfictioners. I'm pleased that everybody seems to be enjoying this story so far! Let's hope this chapter lives up to expectations, hmm? (*gulp*)_**

**_Oh, and take note: A number of the scenes from the 'security footage' differ greatly from the way that you saw them in the movie. I've changed some of the dialogue, and quite a bit of the characters' actions. So it's a tad AU in comparison with the actual movie (which, just to clarify, I do not own). Oh, and the Hood has an accent just like in the TV series in my universe - okay, maybe not as dramatic as it is in the episodes, but he doesn't have an English accent. In the movie, it was totally unrealistic for the Hood to be born and raised in the jungles of Malaysia, but sound like Snape from Harry Potter when he spoke. It just added to the implausibility of the film and made his character a little annoying._**

**_Not that I complain if other authors use the movie version of the Hood, of course. But I simply prefer him to be a tad more....authentic._**

**_Anyway, without further ado, let us proceed with chapter six! (And it's a long one, so be prepared!)_**

* * *

Virgil scrubbed a hand through his hair as he rested his other arm across the back of the couch, glancing periodically over towards the two figures on the other side of the room, who were currently sitting behind an activated control panel. Brains and his father were talking quietly, grave expressions upon their faces as they glanced down at the computer monitor in front of them. As Virgil watched, he saw his father nod grimly, drawing a hand down his face and looking ten years older than he had done earlier that evening.

Concern and curiosity spiking, Virgil looked over Fermat's head to where Scott was sitting on the far end of the couch. Feeling the medic's gaze upon him, the brown-haired Tracy looked up, the same worry and confusion burning in his eyes. Virgil nodded his head towards his father, frowning questioningly as though to ask _"What exactly are we doing here?". _Scott shrugged in response, glancing over at his father momentarily as an identical frown slid into place.

"Mr. Tracy?"

Virgil turned his head towards door as Kyrano stepped into the office. Jeff smiled at him warmly and, with a nod of his head, indicated a chair beside Scott's end of the couch. Kyrano smiled his thanks, making his way over to where the rest of the family were seated. Sitting down slowly, the botanist exhaled heavily, looking unusually serious. His shoulders were slumped, his posture deflated, and his whole form seemed to radiate an uncharacteristically somber tone into the room.

Virgil sighed, sitting back against the couch cushions and running a hand through his hair again as he chewed his bottom lip. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.

Beside him, Fermat shifted nervously, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and twisting his hands together on his lap. The movement caught Virgil's eye, and he sat upright once more, turning towards the younger male with a worried frown upon his face. Fermat had always been a little nervous around strangers or adults - that was just part of his personality - but he _never_ acted like this around the Tracy sons. They were too close. In fact, he practically _was_ a Tracy.

"You okay?" the field medic inquired, casually sliding his arm down from the back of the couch so that it resting lightly around the teenager's shoulders.

Fermat glanced up at him and nodded. "Yeah," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm f-f-fine."

Virgil gave him a reassuring squeeze, deciding that interrogating the young Hackenbacker probably wasn't the wisest of ideas. Despite having brains that, on occasion, rivalled withhis own, Virgil knew that Fermat hated being the centre of attention. And with so many people in the room, he probably wouldn't feel inclined to answering any of Virgil's questions right now.

"Virge?" Gordon whispered, nudging his brother in the side. Virgil turned away from Fermat and glanced over to his left, where Gordon was regarding the Tracy patriarch with a similar degree of confusion.

"What?" the middle Tracy replied, keeping his voice to a low murmur.

"What's all this about?" the copper-top asked, meeting Virgil's gaze as he drummed his fingers against his denim-clad thighs and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Virgil raised a surprised eyebrow upon seeing his brother in jeans. Having stopped off at his bedroom on his way to the office to change out of his damp swim-shorts, Gordon had clearly grabbed the garment without a second thought . Gordon usually hated wearing full-length pants on the island, which explained his present discomfort. Clothing just wasn't Gordon's thing. In fact, Virgil reckoned that if nudity were considered to be perfectly acceptable in the Tracy household, Gordon would prefer to remain 'au naturale' 24/7. Unfortunately for him (and luckily for the rest of the family), Jeff had always made sure that the rule regarding clothing (or the distinct lack thereof) wasn't optional. Even if the best Gordon could manage was a pair of swim-shorts and an unbuttoned shirt, it was better - a _whole_ lot better, Virgil mused - than nothing at all.

"Virge?"

Snapping out of his own thoughts, the middle Tracy returned his attention to the copper-haired teenager beside him. "Hmm- what?"

Gordon frowned, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "I was asking if you knew what we were supposed to be doing here? What's Dad hiding this time?"

Virgil shrugged as Scott had done, shooting another questioning glance towards his father. "Dunno. But something tells me I'm not gonna like it."

Gordon nodded in agreement. "I sense it, too," he intoned.

Virgil raised an eyebrow again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that another Star Wars quote?"

"Indeed, my young apprentice," Gordon answered, inclining his head in a somber fashion. He grinned as Virgil landed a light swat to the back of his head, putting up his hands to protect himself from further attack. "Okay, okay, I'll stop!"

Virgil opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again suddenly when a control panel rose up out of the office floor a few feet away from him, the large view-screen rotating slowly upon it so that it faced the couch. Glancing over towards Brains, he noticed that the scientist was still sitting behind the second control panel near the far wall, deeply engrossed in his task as his hands flew across the keyboard effortlessly.

"Boys," Jeff said softly, pulling up a chair beside Gordon's end of the couch and looking at each of his sons in turn. "There's something you need to see."

His gaze locked with Fermat's for a moment, and his features softened into a kind and understanding expression. "Are you sure you want to do this, kiddo?" he inquired gently. "You don't have to if you're not ready."

Fermat shook his head, dropping his gaze shyly as the Tracy boys turned to look at him. "No, it's okay," he murmured. "I have to s-s-watch it. I n-need to know what happened."

Jeff nodded in acceptance and sighed softly. "Alright," he murmured. "But you can leave anytime you want to, okay?" Fermat inclined his head, still not meeting the Tracy patriarch's gaze, and Jeff raised his eyes to look at the rest of his boys. "That applies to all of you. If you wanna leave, then it's fine by me. You can go."

Virgil frowned, sharing another questioning glance with his eldest sibling, before turning back to look at his father.

"Dad?" he asked slowly. "What's going on? What are you talking about?"

Jeff sighed again, nodding towards Brains on the other side of the room, before glancing back at his middle child. "I know you boys have been wondering about how Alan got hurt," he began softly. "And, until now, I've tried to avoid that subject altogether. But Penny sent Tom over with the security footage from the Bank of London and - and I think, for all our sakes, we need to see it."

Virgil felt his stomach drop and he swallowed, nodding his head slowly. His father had given him only brief details on what had happened at the bank in order that he could better understand the extent of his younger brother's injuries. And what he'd heard had made his blood boil. The Hood had thrown Alan against a wall and dropped him onto a stone floor from six feet in the air. And it had all happened whilst he, Gordon and Scott had been closing down the accident scene around the collapsed monorail. Virgil already felt guilty at having allowed his younger sibling to face that monster again. Alan was only a kid, he should never have had to go through an experience like that.

"Furthermore," Jeff continued, bringing Virgil out of his inward musings and back into the present. "Brains has also pieced together footage from the island's security cameras. He's cut out most of it, but we agreed that there are parts we all need to see in order that we can fully understand what happened yesterday."

Moments later, Virgil's head snapped around towards the large monitor in front of him as it flickered on, an image filling the screen. It was Thunderbird2's silo, and the giant aircraft was glistening merrily beneath the overhead lights, looking as beautiful and majestic as ever. The numerous pod vehicles were lined up around the edges of the silo, still and silent as they sat facing the large green object on the platform.

A blur of movement caught his eye, and three figures ran into view, looking small and fragile in comparison with the giant metallic structures around them. The camera, drawn by the movement, momentarily zoomed in on the trio as they came to a halt in the centre of the silo floor. The camera focused itself, capturing the teenagers' faces clearly.

Virgil felt his gaze drawn to the blond-haired figure in the middle, who stood at least a head above the other two teenagers. He frowned worriedly. There was something inside him - something cold and uncomfortable - that was making him feel on edge. He had a feeling that something was about to happen to his younger brother, something that Virgil wasn't going to like. And although he knew that Alan was safely tucked away in the infirmary alongside John, that thought still filled his heart with fear.

"Fast-forward a little, Brains," Jeff instructed softly, the sudden voice making Virgil start out of his daze. "But not too fast."

Brains nodded, pressing a control on the keyboard in front of him, causing the image on the screen to change. It displayed a shot of the Firefly, facing the elevator doors as green fire-suppressant foam shot out of it's frontal projector towards where three muscular men stood on the platform in front of the vehicle.

A muffled snort had all heads turning towards Gordon, who was grinning as he watched the screen. Glancing up, he shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry," he stated. "But you gotta admit, that's creative." He turned towards Fermat, raising an amused eyebrow. "Was that Alan's idea?" Fermat nodded, a tiny smile appearing on his face, and Gordon smirked knowingly. "The Sprout's been wanting to do that to Scott ever since Brains designed the first prototype."

Scott had to smile at that, watching the screen as the Firefly's hatch opened and two figures ran out, going in opposite directions. Then he frowned, cocking his head to the side.

"Hey," he murmured. "Where's Alan?"

"W-w-hang on a sec," Brains called.

Virgil looked over towards the other side of the room just in time to see the scientist type in another sequence of commands on the control panel. Then the image on the screen cut to a frontal view of Thunderbird 1's silo, where the Thunderizer's large laser cutter was swinging around to face the doors. Then, in a blur of smoke and light, hundreds of tiny red-hot zafron lasers shot out from the metallic dish, striking the silo door and cutting their way through the titanium as easily as a hot knife through butter. In a matter of seconds, a smoking rectangular hole had been created in the giant door.

Virgil glanced across to where Scott was sitting and smirked slightly, noticing the frown upon his eldest brother's face. Emergency or not, the pilot was probably a little miffed that Alan had decided to cut through _his _door instead of the doors to the other two silos. But Virgil knew why his younger sibling had chosen Thunderbird1's silo. The access corridor from the bottom of the aircraft's hanger lead directly to the main villa area, whereas the other silos were connected by elevators to the office. And with Command and Control probably still heavily guarded, the only logical escape route was through the access tunnel.

_'Good thinking, kiddo_,' Virgil silently praised, smiling softly to himself.

Suddenly, the camera view changed again. Virgil realised that it was the footage from the high-tech, armor-plated security camera that was positioned on the wall at the bottom of Thunderbird 1's silo. The image displayed the underside of the aircraft's powerful thrusters, pointing directly towards the rectangular hole that had been created only moments before by the Thunderizer. A muffled _'thud'_ made him jump again, as Alan's form stumbled through the smoking opening, Tin-Tin following close behind. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, and Virgil suddenly realised that they were hearing an audio feed from the day before.

_"That won't keep them back for long,"_ Tin-Tin stated breathlessly, jogging to keep up with Alan as the older teenager strode swiftly across the closed launch vents on the silo floor. _"What are we gonna do?"_

"What the hell?" Gordon muttered, frowning in confusion at the sounds coming from the monitor.

"All the security cameras near the access tunnels have audio capabilities," Jeff explained softly, his face unusually pale as he kept his gaze fixed on the screen. "Originally, we'd planned to use verbal commands to open the doors to the tunnels, but in the end we decided that it was too much of a security risk."

On the screen, Alan froze, turning around sharply to glance about the silo. _"Where's Fermat?"_

The two teenagers looked at each other, before running across to the giant titanium door and sticking their heads through the rectangular hole simultaneously, yelling _"Fermat!"_ in unison. There was a faint _"Coming!"_ that buzzed fuzzily through the speakers, before Tin-Tin and Alan stepped back, and Fermat jumped through the hole and into the silo.

_"Sorry,_" he panted, as the trio jogged back over towards the access hatch. _"I had an-n-n'idea."_

Virgil glanced away from the screen momentarily to regard the small form beside him. What had Fermat been doing? It hadn't exactly been the time for dilly-dallying. Turning back towards the screen, Virgil mentally shrugged. The questions could wait until later.

_"C'mon, we've gotta keep moving. You guys keep a lookout for the guards, I'll open the hatch. Yell if you see them coming, okay?"_

Alan was speaking again now, his voice sounding slightly tinny over the audio. The camera immediately swerved around towards the source of the noise, zooming in on the three figures as they came to a halt beside the sealed entrance to the side tunnel. Virgil blinked in surprise as he regarded his younger brother's face, admiring how calm and collected Alan seemed to be, especially considering the danger he was currently in. As Fermat and Tin-Tin ran off out of sight, the electronic _'beeps'_ of the access keys filled the silence of the room, punctuated by a occasional _'hiss' _of steam from Thunderbird 1's charged thrusters. Alan's figure seemed to be spotlighted by the glow of the sensory light above the tunnel hatch, the pale skin of his bare arms shining brightly in comparison to the dark shadows that surrounded the rest of the dimly-lit silo.

Virgil felt every beat of his heart thump loudly within his chest. Something bad was about to happen, he just knew it. He could feel it. And he could also feel the way that Fermat was tensing up beside him, the teenager's breathing beginning to quicken as he shrank further into Virgil's side. Squeezing the young genius's shoulder reassuringly, the middle Tracy locked his gaze onto the illuminated form of his brother on the screen, frowning worriedly as Alan slammed his hand against the silo wall in frustration.

_"Access denied,"_ a female voice stated tonelessly.

_"C'mon, don't do this,"_ Alan could be heard muttering, the electronic beeps filling in the silence that followed as he tried once again to open the hatch. When the female voice repeated her statement, he let out an angry _"Dammit!"_, running a hand through his hair and glancing worriedly over his shoulder towards where he had entered the silo.

Virgil felt his heart lurch within him as an olive-skinned head appeared in the darkened window of the access door. Beside him, Fermat physically jumped, and Virgil tightened his hold around the boy's shoulders again, feeling the blood pumping through his veins as he held his breath, willing Alan to run in the opposite direction.

It was like a scene from a horror movie. The Hood remained still and unblinking as Alan slowly turned back around to face him, visibly blanching in fear and shock as he saw the figure who stood behind the glass window.

_"Hello, Alan,"_ the Hood greeted, almost conversationally. Virgil stomach twisted sickeningly within him at the cool tone of his voice.

On the other side of Fermat, the Virgil _heard_ more than saw Scott tense up on the couch. Tearing his eyes away from the screen momentarily, he took note of his older brother's clenched fists and angered expression. Loosening his hold around Fermat's shoulders, he reached across and squeezed Scott's arm gently. The pilot didn't look towards him, but his body relaxed a little, his hands slowly uncurling as his stiff shoulders sagged slightly. Satisfied that his brother had calmed himself somewhat, Virgil returned his attention to the screen in front of him, swallowing mightily as his stomach churned again.

_"Were you surprised to hear what your father did to me?" _the Hood was saying softly, his face blank and emotionless. _"It is frightening when we learn that our parents aren't perfect. __But perhaps you already suspected that of your father? Why did he build these magnificent machines, d'you suppose it was guilt, Alan? Because he let your mother die."_

Virgil felt fury bubble up within him. His mother's death was a wound within each member of the Tracy family - a wound that would never fully heal over. Sure, it would shrink and grow faint as time passed, but it never really disappeared. It sat there, waiting - waiting for a monster like the Hood to come along and rip it wide open once again. And the suggestion that his father had 'let' his mother die brought Virgil's anger to boiling point. _Dad was devastated, everybody knew that. Hell, even the tabloids knew that. He would've sacrificed himself ten times over to save her if he'd been given the chance. But life just doesn't work that way._

On the screen, Alan took a step backwards away from the hatch, although his posture was defiant and unrelenting.

_"It wasn't his fault,"_ he ground out, his voice filled with cold fury. _"You're lying."_

The Hood let out a bark of laughter. _"Poor little Alan," _he crooned, his eyes flashing darkly as the camera zoomed in a little closer. _"Always left out, always forgotten - always deceived. What I tell you is the truth, Alan. Your father let your mother die that day....just as he left me to die in the mines, broken, alone and utterly helpless. But now he is the one doomed to his fate, trapped on-board his own creation. A fitting end, don't you think?"_

Alan remained silent, and a small, evil smile appeared on the Hood's face. _"Open the door, Alan."_

Alan shook his head immediately, seeming to be frozen to the spot as he stared back at the robe-clad figure in front of him. Virgil felt a surge of pride at his younger brother's bravery, but he also felt a sharp pang of fear as the Hood's face darkened considerably.

_"Open. The. Door."_

Virgil swallowed down a loud curse as the Hood's eyes flashed red. Alan staggered backwards, one hand going up to clutch at his head as he stumbled onto the closed shaft beneath Thundbirds1's thrusters. There was the sound of a muffled yelp, before both Tin-Tin and Fermat came darting back through the hole in the silo door, panicked looks upon their faces. They froze as they spotted the Hood - who by now had managed to open the access hatch - and stumbling over themselves, ran to Alan's side. Seconds later, three foam-soaked figures entered through the rectangular hole, glaring angrily at the children, who now stood in the centre of the room.

_"Surrender is your only option, Alan,"_ the Hood smirked, walking slowly around the edge of the silo. _"I admire your courage, but the game is at an end. You are trapped, and I have won."_

Fermat tensed up again, and Virgil peered sideways at him, alarmed at the sudden pallor the boy had taken as he gazed at the screen with wide, frightened eyes. Wrapping his arm tighter about Fermat's slim frame, Virgil swallowed and glanced back towards the image in front of him, his heart in his throat as he watched the scene unfold.

_"Go to hell," _Alan growled, standing protectively in front of the two younger teenagers. As he raised his arm, Virgil saw an object in the blond's hand glint in the dim light, before a sharp _'click'_ followed by a loud _'clang'_ emanated from the monitor's speakers. On the screen, the Hood looked to his left, seemingly undaunted, before letting out a deep laugh.

"What just happened?" Gordon asked, probably not even aware that he was saying it aloud. "What did he just do?"

Virgil turned towards the boy next to him, hoping for an explanation, although he kept half an eye on the image before him.

"He fired a rock at the Hood using his skimmer. It's just something Alan m-made," Fermat whispered, tensing up once more as he winced, shrinking back into the couch cushions, his gaze still fixed on the screen. Virgil followed his line of sight, paling slightly as he saw the Hood's eyes narrow in Alan's direction.

_"A brave attempt, Alan"_ he remarked, his voice deep and lined with anger. _"But a foolish one. I was prepared to play nice, since you are only children - but seeing as you have decided to fight dirty..."_

The Hood nodded towards the three muscular men who stood on the other side of the silo floor. As they began to move towards the teenagers, Alan raised his arm again, and another _'click'_ resounded in the office over the panel's speakers, followed this time by a dull _'thunk'_ and a deep, echoing _'clank'_. Then, in the blink of an eye, the shaft doors on the silo floor collapsed in on themselves, and the three children disappeared into the large hole.

Virgil's jaw dropped as he realised what Alan had done. However, he barely had time to think it over before the Hood was yelling at the guards.

_"Get them!"_

Virgil's slight smirk of triumph and pride at Alan's cunning escape-route was short lived. For, a split second later, the more muscular of the three men - a tall, dark skinned, angry-looking thug - raised a communicator to his mouth.

_"Transom, fire up Thunderbird 1!"_ he ordered, his loud voice booming over the speakers as he indicated for the Hood and the other minions to move into the access tunnel. _"And set it to broil!"_

Virgil's blood ran cold again, his stomach dropping another few feet as his mouth went dry.

"No," Scott whispered. However, it was barely audible above the loud exclamation that came from Gordon's end of the couch.

"You damn son of a b-!"

Suddenly, a loud roaring sound filled the room, cutting of Gordon's curse and making Fermat jump at least three feet out of his seat. Everyone let out a collective gasp as the camera became semi-engulfed by the fire that shot out from Thunderbird 1's thrusters. The bright glow stung his eyes, and Virgil was forced to look away, blinking the stars out of his vision as he tried to control his breathing. Then the audio cut off and the screen went blank, leaving the room in a tense, fear-filled silence.

Gordon was the first one to speak. He turned his unusually pale face towards Fermat, opening and closing his mouth for a moment as he tried to form coherent speech. At last, he managed to summon up enough control to talk.

"How?" he asked breathlessly. "How the hell did you survive that? He - you - I mean....dammit, Ferm, you should be dead!"

Fermat shrugged slightly, shooting Gordon a shaky smile. "Guess we got lu-lucky this time, huh?"

Scott grabbed hold of Fermat's arms, his eyes scanning over the young boy's form rapidly, clearly looking for some sort of hidden injury.

"And none of you were hurt?" he pressed, loosening his grip a little as he saw the teenager wince. As Fermat shook his head gently, Scott breathed out a soft _'Thank God'_ and pulled the boy into a tight embrace. After a brief moment, he drew back again and smiled shakily, reaching up a hand to ruffle Fermat's dark brown locks.

Gordon leaned forward, looking around Virgil as he peered over at the younger teenager worriedly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked.

Fermat nodded, another shy smile gracing his features. "Yeah," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I th-think I am now."

Scott smiled softly, only to freeze and turn back towards the screen sharply as a new image popped up. It was a view of the pool area in front of the villa, showing clearly the steps leading up onto the top deck, where giant glass screens separated a large seating area from the entrance to the villa. As he watched, two figures emerged on the right from the path that lead to the smaller landing strip on the east side of the island. As they strode quickly around the side of the pool, Scott's eyes widened.

"Hey, that's Lady P!" Gordon exclaimed, completely unnecessarily - the fact that the figure was dressed entirely in pink made her identity rather obvious. "And Parker!"

Scott nodded mutely in confirmation, watching as the camera, sensing movement, zoomed in on the two figures. They made their way up the steps and in through the bay doors, disappearing from sight. Scott frowned slightly, wondering why they were still looking at the outward view of the villa when the two agents were _inside_. However, he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

As the minutes ticked by, Scott felt his jaw drop lower and lower onto his chest, his eyes glued to the screen as he watched the pink-clad aristocrat and her grey-clad butler defending themselves against attack. The Hood's guards, along with a red-haired woman that Scott vaguely remembered seeing from the monitor on-board Thunderbird 5, were officially getting owned by the International Rescue agents.

"Whoa," Gordon breathed, breaking the silence of the room once more as he stared at the monitor. "Lady Penelope kicks ass."

Suddenly, the Hood emerged from within the double doors of the villa, seemingly as calm and collected as can be. He turned his head towards where Lady Penelope was fighting furiously with one of the muscular guards. As she kicked the man down the steps towards the pool, the Hood raised a hand in the air and waved it in her vague direction. In a sudden blur of movement, a large, red couch - the one that had been sitting just out of sight within the main corridor of the villa, Scott noted - came hurtling out towards where the pink-clad figure was standing.

Scott sucked in a sharp breath, his heart leaping up within his chest as he saw the object fly towards the family friend. Then, just as the couch was about to meet its target, Parker leaped across the deck and dragged his employer down beside him. The couch went hurtling over their heads, soaring gracefully through the air and colliding solidly with the giant glass screen that separated the seating area from the rest of the deck. It shattered instantly, thousands of tiny glass shards shooting out in all directions as the couch skidded across the floor, knocking over tables and chairs as it went. Scott raised an eyebrow.

_'Whoa,' _he thought, still in a mild state of shock from the suddenness of it all. _'I guess Onaha and Kyrano must've done a hell of a lot of cleaning before we got back. The couch was in the wrong place, sure, but there was no sign of any major struggle - well, other than a few shards of glass in the very corner of the deck.'_

Scott's expression morphed into a frown as he saw Lady Penelope aim a kick at the Hood's face, her leg freezing in mid-air as though time itself had stopped. Then Parker dropped to his knees, clutching at his head, and Scott realised what was happening. Glaring at the screen, he gritted his teeth in anger as he saw the pink-clad female drop her leg, staggering slightly as she, too, clutched at her head in obvious pain. Scott could see the Hood's lips moving, but since the footage had no audio, he couldn't work out what the robed psychopath was saying. However, he only had a moment to ponder this before another familiar blond-haired figure ran out of the dense vegetation beside the villa and onto the deck.

"Alan," he whispered, forgetting momentarily that he was sitting in a room with other people.

He watched, his heart still hammering within his chest, as Alan turned towards the camera, drew back his arm and threw an object towards it. Scott blinked as the small projectile froze in mid-air, before slowly gliding back towards the other side of the pool, landing neatly in the Hood's outstretched hand.

"What was that?" Gordon asked again, turning towards Fermat. "What did he just throw?"

Fermat was frowning slightly, looking thoughtful. "It must be Thunderbird 2's g-guidance processor," he said at last. "I t-t-swiped it in the silos and gave it to Alan just before I got c-c-captured."

Scott put an arm around the teenager's shoulders at the word 'captured'. However, his attention was once again diverted towards the screen as the large, muscular man he had seen before from the silo footage strode swiftly across the deck and around the poolside. Grabbing Alan by the arm and twisting him around, he pinned the limb to the boy's back in one smooth motion. Scott clenched his hands into fists, hissing out through his teeth in fury.

_Get your hands **off** my brother, you good for nothing son of a-_

He stopped his mental tirade as he saw Alan raise a foot and stamp down heavily on the guard's ankle. A surge of pride bubbled up within him at Alan's resilience. Oh yes, Alan was definitely a Tracy. And Scott recognised that particular maneuver. Alan had been using it against his older siblings since about the age of three.

His blood ran cold again as he saw the guard twist Alan's other arm behind his back in retaliation. Scott winced sympathetically, resisting the urge to swear aloud as Alan was forcefully dragged up the stairs and into the villa, the other guards dragging Lady Penelope and Parker along behind him. As the Hood brought up there rear and disappeared from sight through the bay doors, there was a second's pause as the view of the outside area froze, before the monitor in front of them when blank once more.

Scott leaned forward, rubbing a hand through his hair as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. He was ready to teach the Hood's men a lesson about what happened when you messed with a Tracy. He wanted to get his hands on the oh-so-tough bully who had dared to lay a hand on his younger brother.

"Where are they taking him?" Gordon asked, his voice sounding slightly constricted. Looking sideways, Scott noticed the identical look of fury on his younger brother's face. He and Gordon had clearly been thinking along the same lines.

"The f-freezer," Fermat replied, his voice stronger than before. Glancing down at the smaller boy, Scott saw that even the slow-to-anger miniature genius seemed ready to throw a large and heavy scientific invention at the guard who had hurt his best friend.

Scott smiled softly. _Thatta boy._

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Jeff sighed heavily as he half-listened to the conversation between the boys on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. _God, I had no idea things had been so hard for Alan. I can't believe how close I came to losing him in the silos. If anything had happened to him, I - dammit, I would never have forgiven myself. No wonder the kid was so traumatized, that - that **monster **tried to mess with his mind!_

"The freezer?!" he heard Gordon ask incredulously. Glancing up, he snapped out of his own thoughts and tried to focus on the current situation.

"We were all st-st-imprisoned in the freezer before Parker managed to b-b-unlock the door," Brains interjected, not looking up from his control panel as he began typing in a series of commands. The screen in front of the couch suddenly turned blue. "I've uploaded the, uh, the footage from Lady Penelope's file, Mr. Tracy. D'you want me to st-st-st-begin the tape?"

Jeff nodded, going pale again as he sat back in his chair, hardening himself for the traumatic scene he would be witnessing for the second time in forty-eight hours. And dammit, he wasn't looking forward to it. It had nearly killed him the first time around.

"Is this the footage from the bank?" Virgil asked, turning towards his father with a worried expression upon his face.

At Jeff's tight nod of confirmation, he visibly swallowed, turning back to look at the monitor as a new image filled the screen. Jeff noticed the expressions on all his sons' faces grow deadly serious. They knew that they were about to see just how Alan sustained his injuries. Jeff took a deep breath and forced himself to look towards the screen. It was a side-shot of the bank vault, the Mole sitting upon a small mound of rubble to the right of the screen, dust and plaster scattered in a thin layer across the floor.

It was all so familiar - so real. Jeff watched himself run across the floor towards where Lady Penelope was tied to a row of shelves within a metal security cage against the far wall on he left-hand side of the screen. In front of the Mole, the Hood's robe-clad figure suddenly appeared, going completely unnoticed by the Tracy patriarch as he headed towards his agent. Jeff grimaced as he watched the camera zoom in on his figure, the picture so clear that it even showed the sooty smudges and small tears in his uniform.

_"Penny!"_

Jeff closed his eyes, feeling his stomach churn. _No. God no, please, not an audio. I can't go through this again, I just can't!_

_"Jeff, no!"_

He didn't have to open his eyes to know what was going on. In his mind's eye, the scene was already playing out in front of him, the colours and sounds coming to life with the aid of the video footage. His heart began to beat faster and faster within his chest.

_"Did you save them all this time, Jeff?"_ The cold voice cut through his consciousness like a hot poker, and he clenched his hands into fists, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his anger. _"Or did you leave someone behind?"_

Wrenching his eyes open, Jeff saw himself stiffen up angrily on the screen, before his tinny-sounding voice echoed through the speakers.

_"We all have a choice, Hood. I didn't make you what you are."_

Jeff gripped onto the arms of his office chair hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. The rest of his body went numb as he shook his head, willing the world to stand still, just for a moment, to allow him to prepare himself for what was about to happen.

_"It's not me you have to convince,"_the Hood replied, nodding towards an area off-screen. A flash of memory hit him and Jeff could see his son standing, frozen to the spot, in the doorway to the bank vault. He could feel that same dagger of fear slicing through his heart as he recalled the horror he'd felt upon realising that his youngest child was in danger once more.

He saw himself take a menacing step forward. _"Leave my son outta this, you ba-"_

Then his body was sent hurtling backwards towards the left hand side of the screen, colliding solidly with the metal bars at the back of the security cage. He heard collective gasps from the rest of the room's occupants, and saw Virgil turn towards him out of the corner of his eye, the medic's mouth hanging open in shock as fear as concern burned in his eyes.

"Dad, are you-" he began, only to break off when another voice was heard from the speakers.

_"Dad!"_

Jeff sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, clenching his mouth tight shut and swallowing heavily as his stomach churned again. On the screen, Alan's blond-haired form could be seen darting across the floor towards where his father lay, arriving at the metal cage just as the door slammed shut with a resounding _'clang'_.

_"Dad!"_ the teenager yelled again, gripping onto the bars as he stared towards where the Tracy patriarch was struggling to sit upright. Over beside the Mole, the Hood let out another bark of harsh, cold laughter.

_"You disappoint me, Alan,"_ he stated, his voice lined with mockery. _"I thought we were kindred spirits."_

Jeff held his breath as Alan turned around to face the robed figure. _"Well we're not,"_ he replied flatly, the anger evident in his voice as he took a step towards the Hood, hands clenched into fists at his sides. _"I'm Jeff Tracy's son."_

_"Alan, don't!"_

The Hood laughed again, raising a hand. _"Yes, you certainly are."_

With a flick of his wrist, Alan's form was sent flying through the air across the bank vault, Jeff's _"No_!" and Lady Penelope's _"Alan_!" emanating almost simultaneously from the monitor's speakers. He collided with one of the large marble pillars with a loud _'thud'_, before dropping heavily to the floor.

Jeff heard Scott and Virgil suck in shocked breaths, and he spared a glance in their direction. Both his sons wore pained expressions upon their faces, their bodies tense and upright as their gazes remained glued to the screen. Gordon and Fermat appeared to be in a mild state of shock, their faces blank and their eyes wide and staring as they watched the footage silently, hardly seeming to breathe.

Turning back towards the monitor, Jeff bit his lip as he saw Alan struggling to his feet, clutching at his side as he staggered back towards the cage. Shaking his head and breathing heavily, he gazed at the teenager, inwardly willing his boy to run, even though he knew that what he was seeing was all in the past. But it felt so real. He still felt that same helplessness that he had experienced when he had watched Alan being thrown about from behind the metal bars of the security vault.

_"Alan!"_ the on-screen Jeff yelled, kneeling upright against the side of the cage. _"Alan, run! We'll be okay, just get yourself outta here!"_

Suddenly, the Hood seemed to shoot up into the air, spinning gracefully until he landed with a loud _'clank'_ upon the walkway above the Mole, on the very far right-hand side of the screen. The camera, now forced to record movement over a larger area, drew back slightly, shrinking the figures on the screen a little but allowing a full view of the whole bank vault.

Still clutching at his side, Alan shook his head, turning once more to face the Hood as he glanced up towards where the robed figure stood. Again, he took a step forward, moving stiffly as he clearly tried to control the pain.

_"Alan, no, stay back!"_ Jeff's voice cried over the speakers. In his office chair, Jeff closed his eyes again, not wanting to witness this moment. Hearing it was bad enough, but he couldn't bring himself to watch what was happening on the screen.

_"You want so desperately to walk in Daddy's footsteps," _the Hood teased. _"But look at where that path has lead you, Alan_."

Jeff heard another round of collective gasps resound in the room, followed swiftly by a loud curse from Gordon. Had he been able to form coherent speech, Jeff still wouldn't have had the heart to reprimand his son. Inwardly, he was cursing up a storm.

_"No, please, let him go!"_ he heard his own voice cry, filled with desperation.

He tore his eyes open again, gazing at the screen with guilt and horror as he beheld the image of his youngest boy dangling six feet above the floor. The Hood's smirking face was visible, his outstretched hand unwavering as he glared at Alan's suspended figure. Jeff could hardly bear to watch it.

But if the visual was bad enough, the audio was even worse. The sensitive security camera seemed to be picking up every whisper, thus causing Alan's choked gasps and strangled coughs to sound overly loud in the tense silence of the office.

_"No!"_ This was Lady Penelope, struggling against her bonds within the metal cage as she stared helplessly at the blond teenager. _"Let him go!"_

The Hood let out another bark of cold laughter. _"Come now, where's your sense of fun?"_ he asked lightly, before lowering his voice to a cold growl. _"Oh Alan, did you really think you could challenge me? Again, you have only succeeded in making matters worse for yourself. And now you will pay for you meddlesome behaviour once and for all."_

As Alan continued to choke, Jeff saw himself slam his hand against the metal bar in front of him. _"Stop it!"_ he yelled. _"Please! Let him go!"_

Then the Hood seemed to stumble slightly, his arm dropping momentarily as he grabbed onto the walkway rail for support. The invisible force holding Alan up broke immediately, and Jeff gripped at the arms of his chair again as the teenager dropped back down to the ground with a loud _'smack'_, gasping loudly as he sucked in lungfuls of air. The pained grunts that accompanied the heavy breathing tore at Jeff's heart, and he closed his eyes again, his heart thundering a rapid taboo within his chest as he prepared himself for the final, most devastating scene.

_I can't do this. I can't see him like that again, when the Hood - when he - dammit, this should never have happened!_

But somehow, he managed to remain calm enough to open his eyes once more, his gaze locking onto Alan's figure as the boy staggered to his feet, still wheezing loudly and clutching at his side. He stumbled forward towards the Mole, and Jeff saw his on-screen self shake his head desperately.

_"Alan, no, stay back!"_

Alan grabbed hold of one of the Mole's sharp teeth. _"He's getting weaker,"_ the teenager gasped, his voice sounding strained and constricted. _"He can't last much longer."_

_"Neither can you!"_

As the blond-haired figure began to climb up the nose of the Mole, Jeff saw Gordon lean forward on the couch beside him, his hands gripping onto the cushion tightly as his breathing quickened. Feeling a fatherly pang of worry, Jeff reached out a hand and placed it in the centre of his son's back. Gordon jumped at the touch, glancing up towards Jeff momentarily with wide, frightened eyes, before leaning back against the couch and returning his attention to the screen in front of him, his body less tense than before.

"No," Scott whispered, his face going white. "No, no, no, no, no." Although, in truth, his voice was barely audible above the loud shouts of _"Alan, no!"_ that came from Lady Penelope and Jeff over the speakers.

Jeff closed his eyes as he heard the Mole's engine roar to life, but it didn't do much to calm him. The scene was still playing out in his mind's eyes, more alive and vivid than ever.

_"Alan!"_

Jeff could hardly breathe, his hands tingling as his blood ran cold and the room began to spin. _Oh God, Alan. He's gonna kill my boy._

Looking at the screen again, Jeff tried to suck in a calming breath. He saw Hood turn around, his back to the cage that held Jeff and the English aristocrat as he peered over the railing at the teenager beneath him. Glancing over his shoulder, he spoke again, his voice filled with contempt and malice.

_"I'm glad you could be here to see this, Jeff."_

The camera, now sensing the majority of the movement coming from the Mole, zoomed in over to the right-hand side of the room. Alan's dangling form became enlarged, the pained and fearful look on his face perfectly clear as he clung onto the rail above him. Then the Hood raised a boot-clad foot, stamping it down against one of the teenager's hands. Alan cried out in pain, the sound nearly drowned out by the loud whizzing of the Mole's teeth. Then his hand slipped from the rail, leaving him hanging by one arm only, his sneaker-clad feet only just avoiding the rotating daggers beneath him.

Jeff momentarily thought that his heart had stopped. His vision blurred as tears sprung to his eyes, his fingers aching as they continued to grip onto the arms of his office chair tightly. He wanted to be sick. The once-spacious room now felt small and cramped, and for a split second he thought that he might pass out.

_"No!"_

Tin-Tin's cry made him jump. Blinking hurriedly, he gazed at the screen as the Malaysian girl ran into view, coming to a halt in front of the security cage. She grabbed onto her necklace with one hand, the other hand stretching out towards the walkway as she gazed steadily upwards. There was a long moment of silence - other than the continual _'whir'_of the Mole's spinning teeth - before a loud metallic screeching made Jeff wince as the noise crackled through the speakers. The walkway seemed to flip onto it's side, resulting in Alan's body landing flat upon the rails as the Hood dangled beneath him.

The room was still as everybody held their breath, nobody daring to break the tense atmosphere.

_"Leave me, Alan,"_ the Hood's voice growled weakly, the _'whir'_ of the Mole now deafeningly loud as the camera tried to pick up the speech. _"Leave me to die...just like your father did."_

Alan suddenly reached down and grabbed onto the Hood with both hands. _"I don't want to save you life,"_ he stated, his voice unwavering as he began to tug the Hood back onto the railing. _"But it's what we do."_

Jeff felt a same surge of pride bubble up within him at his son's words, and tears sprung to his eyes once again, his throat tightening painfully. _That's my boy._

_"Mr. Tracy!"_

The camera zoomed back to a wide-shot of the vault as Parker's voice echoed over the speakers, moments before he and Fermat appeared on the screen. They both froze at the scene before them, Parker dropping his beloved hat to the floor in his surprise.

_"Fermat, shut down the Mole!"_ Jeff yelled, standing up in the metal security cage and pointing towards the active machine. _"Parker, help Alan with the Hood!"_

As Jeff's heartbeat began to slow down, he took a deep breath to compose himself, before glancing over towards Brains and nodding once, indicating that they'd seen enough of the footage. The scientist reached out and pressed a control on his keyboard, and the screen in front of the couch went black once more, leaving the room in a heavy, tense silence. Jeff turned in his seat and glanced towards each of his sons.

Scott was breathing heavily, as though he had just run a great distance, he hands clenched into fists on his knees as he glared at the floor, clearly trying his best to contain his anger. Beside him, Fermat was looking slightly pale as he raised a shaky hand to adjust his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Further along the couch, Virgil had a hand over his mouth and chin, his elbow leaning against his knee as he kept his eyes closed, taking in deep, calming breaths in through his nose. And beside Jeff, Gordon sat frozen on the edge of the couch, he breathing rapid as he gazed at the darkened screen with a shocked and horrified expression upon his face.

The silence stretched out for several minutes, nobody moving as they all absorbed what they had just seen. At last, Jeff decided that he needed to speak up.

"Boys," he murmured, his voice sounding strange, even to his own ears. "Alan's down in the infirmary. He's alright."

Gordon's head snapped round, his eyes shining as he glared up at his father incredulously.

"Alright?!" he repeated, his voice constricted with emotion. "Like hell he's alright!"

And with that, the copper-haired teenager sprung up out of his seat, sprinting around the front of the couch and darting out of the door. Scott followed his movements with his eyes, a concerned expression replacing the furious one as he snapped out of his daze and sat upright.

"Gordon!" he called, pushing himself to his feet and taking a step towards the door. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at his father, seemingly torn between the need to stay and the need to comfort his younger sibling. Jeff nodded his head once, and Scott's pain-filled expression relaxed slightly, before he jogged out of the office and off down the corridor. Fermat glanced towards the doorway for a moment, before shaking his head, standing up and moving across the room to sit down in the seat next to his father, leaning his head against the scientist's shoulder as Brains pulled him in for a tight hug.

As silence reined once more, Jeff put his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes wearily. _Well, they took that better than I expected. I was half expecting Scott to throw something at the screen when the Hood - when that monster - began hurting Alan. And dammit, I wouldn't have blamed him. _

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and raised his head to see that Virgil had moved to sit beside him on the very edge of the couch. His middle child was looking at him steadily, a mixture of emotions burning in his eyes. Jeff smiled at him shakily, brushing a hand through his son's hair and trying to swallow down the painful lump in his throat. Virgil blinked rapidly, clearing his throat before dropping his hand from his father's shoulder.

"Dad, you should've told me about you back," he stated softly.

Jeff frowned, momentarily confused. "What?"

"You're back," Vigil repeated, his voice gaining strength as a worried expression slid into place. "I've noticed that you've been walking a little stiffly since we got back from London yesterday, but I assumed that it was just stress. I should've known it was more serious than that. I should've asked you about it sooner."

Jeff shook his head. "Son, I'm fine," he assured the younger man. "Minor bruising, that's all."

Virgil's eyes flashed. "You _know_ the rule about injuries," he accused, his voice breaking slightly. "You're supposed to tell me."

And then Jeff knew that his son's concerns were not only for him, but for Alan as well. He was merely using Jeff's possible injury as an outlet - as a method of, in Virgil's own words, _'distracting by doing'_. Virgil had always coped with stressful situations by slipping into his 'Virge the Surge' role. It gave him more control over what was happening, and helped him to deal with the emotions. And naturally, after having witnessed the footage of his younger brother dangling helplessly above the Mole, he was probably battling with conflicting emotions right now. Anger at the Hood for hurting Alan, irrational anger at himself for allowing it to happen, guilt at having failed to notice Jeff's injuries before, irrational guilt a having been unable to prevent his family from getting hurt in the first place. Oh yes, Jeff could read Virgil like a book, no matter how good his poker face was. That was a gift that a father learned to master after years of careful training.

"Virgil, it's nothing," he repeated softly, putting an arm around the younger man and squeezing him briefly. "If it makes you feel better, you can examine me later if you want to, alright?"

Virgil nodded, letting out a deep sigh. "Okay," he agreed. Then he frowned and looked up at his father once more, his eyes hard. "I'm telling Tom about this."

Jeff groaned inwardly. _Oh joy._

Virgil chewed his lip thoughtfully, turning towards Kyrano, who sat silently in a chair beside the far end of the couch.

"Kyrano?" he began, a little hesitantly. "What happened to the walkway, was that - was that Tin-Tin?"

The botanist nodded his head, sighing softly. "Yes, Virgil. My daughter and I both share a power that is similar to that of my half-brother. We rarely use it. It is physically and mentally draining, and overuse can be damaging to the health. When Tin-Tin was a little girl, we discovered that she had inherited the same powers that have passed down through many generations of my family. But as I did, she learned to control it. The necklace she wears was a gift from my father before he died. It has no power itself, but she has learned to use it in order to focus."

Virgil was rubbing at his forehead, seemingly trying to absorb this new wad on information.

"Is she okay?" he asked finally, looking back up at the older man. Jeff smiled, glad to see that his son didn't appear to be overly shocked by the news that Tin-Tin and Kyrano both possessed telekinetic powers.

Kyrano's stiff posture also seemed to relax a little, and he nodded his head. "Physically, she is fine. But she was terribly worried about how you and your brothers would react when you discovered the truth about her gift."

Virgil frowned again, this time in concern. "What did she think we were gonna do, throw her off the island?" he asked, more to himself than to Kyrano. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I'll talk to her in the morning. I need to thank her, for a start. I mean she - she saved Alan's life back there. If she hadn't done....well, whatever it was she did....Alan would've been-"

He broke of and scrubbed a hand over his face again, exhaling heavily. "Damn," he whispered, shaking his head.

Jeff reached out and squeezed Virgil's shoulder, standing to his feet. "I'm gonna go check on your brothers," he stated. "Gordon seemed pretty upset about it all, I'd better go find him before he does something stupid."

Virgil dropped his hands from his head, reaching up to snag Jeff's wrist as the older man walked past. "Dad, don't," he murmured. Jeff paused. "Scott went after him, he'll be okay. And besides," he added, glancing towards the door, his eyes burning with a turmoil of emotions. "I know exactly where he ran off to."

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Alan swung his legs to and fro absently, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning, being careful not to stretch his sore muscles as he inhaled deeply. On the other side of the room, Thomas Palmar was moving around John's bed, glancing up at the monitors and tapping his chin thoughtfully with his penlight. Alan saw the doctor put a hand to John's forehead, before reaching over and grabbing a thermometer from the metal trolley beside the bed, inserting the tip in the sleeping astronaut's ear.

Alan frowned slightly, a small bubble of worry beginning to work its way up his chest as he blinked away his fatigue, becoming more alert as he looked at the doctor questioningly. Tom withdrew the thermometer, glancing up and meeting Alan's gaze.

"He's fine, kiddo," the doctor murmured, smiling kindly as he set the object back down again. "His temp's up by half a degree, but it's nothing to worry about. I was kinda expecting that to happen, anyway."

Alan shifted in his position on the bed, rotating his aching shoulders slowly. "Why's that?"

Thomas straightened up, moving towards Alan's bed slowly. "The antibiotics I gave him earlier are starting to kick in," he explained, leaning against the side of the mattress as he regarded Alan steadily. "A rise in temperature is perfectly normal. It's still not high enough to count as a fever, so it's nothing to worry about."

Alan nodded, yawning heavily.

"Hey," Thomas murmured, putting a hand between the teenager's shoulder blades and rubbing gently. "You look beat. Why don't you lie back and get some rest, hmm?"

Alan shook his head and forced a small onto his face. "Nah, I'm okay. I'll wait until the guys get back."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" he pressed. "Sleeping ain't a crime, you know."

Alan smiled again. "Tom, I'm fine," he insisted. "It's not even ten o'clock yet. And since it's the holidays, I don't technically have to be in bed 'til eleven."

Thomas chuckled softly, ruffling Alan's hair before pushing himself away from the mattress and walking back towards where John lay sleeping, picking up a scanner from the metal trolley beside the bed. "I see that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he remarked lightly. Then he lowered his voice and added. "Darn Tracy stubbornness."

Grinning Alan shook his head, allowing his gaze to drop down to the area of floor in front of his bed. Thomas was right; in many ways, Alan _was_ very much like his father. But he also knew that the stubbornness in his personality did not only come from the Tracy side of the family. He knew that he was a lot like his mother, both in appearance _and_ character. And that was one of the main reasons why his father had always been so overprotective of him.

_Dad's only ever done what's best for me. And what have I done to him? I threw it back in his face. Springfield Academy nearly got me blown up, so he pulled me out of there and sent me to Wharton's without even telling me off for - you know - the lab incident. Well, in truth, it wasn't even my fault, the Bunsen burner was faulty. But anyway, he never let the guys tease me about it. And how did I thank him for that? I messed about for a whole school year. Damn, I'm gonna fail every subject except gym and design technology if I don't start working harder. I can't let that happen. Dad's given me so much, and all I've ever done is disappoint him. _

_Well not anymore. When I go back to school, I'm gonna show Miss Garret that Pythagoras's theorem is as easy as pi. I'll just have to do a ton of extra credit work to pull my grades up. Fermat'll help me. No - no, he won't. I've gotta do this on my own. I need to show Dad what I'm capable of._

Smiling to himself, his mind firmly set upon his goal, Alan began swinging his legs again. Glancing down at his watch, he frowned. His brothers had been gone over half an hour now. How much footage were they watching? Alan shuddered slightly as the image of the Hood's smirking face flashed before his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside and trying to think of something to distract himself. He didn't want to relive those memories again. Not yet.

Suddenly, the infirmary doors _'hissed' _open. Glancing up, Alan spotted Gordon standing in the doorway. Alan frowned - not because his older brother was actually wearing fully-length pants for once, but because he was breathing heavily. The aquanaut met his gaze, expressions of pain, anger, guilt and sadness passing across his face one after the other as he paused momentarily, regarding Alan silently for a few seconds. Then, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in, he strode swiftly up to Alan's beside and wrapped his arms around the shorter teenager's shoulders, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

Alan blinked, startled by the sudden action.

"Gordy?" he began softly, only to stop when the older boy shook his head, squeezing harder. Instead of asking what was wrong, feeling that his brother needed a hug more than a chat, Alan wrapped his own arms around his brother's back, his gaze flickering over to where Thomas sat on the other side of the room.

The doctor was perched on the end of John's bed, purposefully ignoring the other two Tracy boys as he jotted notes down on his hand-held datapad. Alan looked away again, as the infirmary doors _'hissed'_ open once more. Scott stood in the doorway, his eyes burning with an emotion Alan could not fully identify. The pilot stepped into the room, his gaze locking with Alan's as he swallowed heavily, sucking in a deep breath through his nose.

Alan closed his eyes as understanding suddenly dawned within his mind. _Of course. The footage. _

Gordon pulled back all of a sudden, his hands sliding down Alan's shoulders and gripping onto his forearms. The older teenager stared at his younger brother for a long moment, his eyes shining with tears. Alan felt a lump come to his own throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gordon whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed at Alan with a wounded expression. "Alan, you - he - God, Alan, it was so close. I had no idea that - you should've-" he puffed out a frustrated breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Alan swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Gordon shook his head. "No, _I'm _sorry," he stated firmly, wrapping his arms around Alan again, this time around his lower back. Alan gritted his teeth as pain exploded in his side, but he did not pull away. Gordon needed him right now. And dammit, Alan needed Gordon, too.

"I should've been there," the older boy whispered. "I should've stopped him."

"Hey," Alan murmured, finding his voice again, relieved that it did not betray the pain he was currently in. "I'm okay, Gords. Nothing happened."

Gordon pulled away again, the sudden release of pressure making Alan wince. "Nothing happened?!" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. Then his expression changed, and he grabbed hold of Alan's arms, taking a small step back as he realised how hard he'd been holding his younger brother. "God, Al, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Alan nodded, trying to remove the pained grimace from his face. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied hurriedly. "It's nothing."

"I'm sorry," Gordon gushed, looking uncharacteristically panicked. "I forgot about - I didn't mean - I'm sorry!"

"Hey," Alan repeated, his voice a little more forceful this time as he squeezed Gordon's arm tightly, silently communicating with his eyes what simple words would never be able to describe. But he could see that his brother was getting the message, the fire dying down in his eyes.

"I'm _fine_," he said again, his voice soft and lightly teasing. "Cool it, will you? You're gonna internally combust if you keep this up."

Gordon blinked at him expressionlessly for a moment, before a grin exploded across his face and his body relaxed. Ruffling Alan's hair, he chuckled and moved to sit on the mattress beside his younger sibling, slinging an arm around Alan's shoulders casually. And just like that, the storm clouds blew over, and Gordon was Gordon again; coolness personified.

"Hey," a new voice murmured.

Alan glanced up, having momentarily forgotten that Scott was still in the room. The pilot stepped up to the bedside and wordlessly wrapped an arm around Alan's smaller frame, pulling him into his side for a gentle hug. When he withdrew once more, he turned to push himself up onto the bed beside Alan, reaching around the younger Tracy to clap Gordon on the shoulder reassuringly. Then, carefully gliding his fingers through Alan's hair, he gazed at his youngest sibling steadily.

"You sure you're okay?" he pressed, his eyes still burning with a mixture of emotions. Alan understood the depth behind the question and, dropping his gaze to his lap, nodded slowly.

"I'll be fine, Scotty," he murmured, finally believing the words for himself. His brothers would be there for him, he knew that for certain. And although the road ahead would be hard, it now seemed brighter and less daunting than it had once been. They were going to get through this together. Together as a family.

Glancing back up at his older brother, his raised an eyebrow. "How about you? Are you okay?"

Scott's face hardened suddenly, and he slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. "I wanna rip that guy's head off," he growled, his whole body tensing up as the fiery anger flared into an inferno within his cobalt-blue eyes.

Alan couldn't help but grin._ That's the Scott I know and love._ "Good thing he's in jail, then," he commented.

Scott's whole posture changed in a split second, as though somebody had flicked a switch and shut off his anger. Dropping his hands onto his knees, he looked sideways at his youngest sibling, a small smile of his own tugging at his mouth.

"Ya know what, squirt?" he sighed, looping an arm carefully around Alan's back. "You're probably right. I'd only end up getting my shirt dirty, anyway."

Gordon snorted out a muffled bark of laughter, reaching around Alan's body to shove his older brother playfully. Grinning, the prankster put his hand against the mattress behind him, leaning back and smirking up at the ceiling.

"I'd save your strength if I were you," he warned.

Scott glanced across to him, frowning slightly. "Why's that?"

Gordon looked back towards Thomas on the other side of the room, before turning to face the two Tracy boys who sat beside him. Waggling his eyebrows, he grinned his most evil of grins.

"Because Tom's taking away Dad's coffee," he stated flatly. "And it's gonna be World War Three at breakfast tomorrow morning."

Alan grinned as soft laughter filled the room, leaning against Scott's side and sighing happily. Yes, his ribs felt as though he'd just gone tend rounds with a brick wall. And yes, International Rescue was going to be offline for what could be months, or at least until the primary 'birds had been fixed and John was back on his feet. But what did that matter?

Right now, protected from harm between two of his brothers, Alan Tracy was happy. And what made the moment all the more perfect? Quite simply, Alan knew that the Hood - imprisoned in his maximum security cell in some top-secret location, heavily guarded by military personnel who followed the _'shoot first, ask questions later'_ rule - was the furthest any human being could ever be from 'happy'.

Oh yes....this was a battle they had won.

* * *

**_How will the Tracy family be coping after a few days of Tom's care? Will Jeff have survived the caffeine cold-turkey? And will our youngest Tracy be able to cope when the shadows of memory begin to invade his dreams? Find out next time!_**

**_Wow, that was a LONG chapter, huh? *wipes perspiration from forehead* See, NOW do you understand why I couldn't have slotted this onto the end of the previous chapter? It would've been way too long. And besides, my fingers typed without my permission, I hadn't actually intended to write this much! Ah well._**

**_So, how was it? There was so much description, I hope I didn't bore you. But I loved writing it, so I honestly don't mind if you didn't enjoy it. Lol! And yes, before you comment, I know I changed the design of the Firefly. I made both Tin-Tin and Fermat go *inside* the vehicle because, to be perfectly honest, it's dumb to assume that a person could survive the intense heat of an inferno if they were standing on top like the movie showed. It just wouldn't work for the conditions the Firefly has to endure._**

**_Anywho, PLEASE REVIEW and give me tons of feedback! I love feedback. Any typos, suggestions, concrit, advice or wacky comments (I'm counting on you here, Cip), I'd love to hear from you!_**

**_Next chapter will be posted same time next week, probably. Oh, and sammygirl1963? The next chapter is the one you've been waiting for. Major fluffy moment._**

**_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	7. Chapter 7: Nightmares

**_Greetings!_**

**_It's the weekend at last! (*does happy dance, spilling tea all over herself in the process*) Okay, who's celebrating with me?_**

**_Thanks again to all those who reviewed, especially to 'ast' for those helpful typo pointers - the nasty space monster came back full force in the last chapter, huh? Anyway, I'm pleased that everybody is still enjoying this story. Thanks again, guys. _**

**_This chapter is for two very special people: Lissysue85, because she's been feeling a little under the weather, and after bullying her into getting some rest, I promised I'd give her something to make her feel better. Also, it's a 'keep ya chin up, honey!' gift to sammygirl1963. Hope a big dose of fluff brightens up your day!_**

**_Okay, on with the show!_**

* * *

Scott sighed heavily, kicking the duvet away from his around his legs, the cool room air prickling at the skin on his bare back as he rolled onto his side. Slipping his arm beneath the pillow, he tried to press his face further into the soft fabric, willing his eyes to grow tired so that he could drift off to sleep. His alert mind was becoming a distinct nuisance.

It had been five days since the Hood's attack, and life had begun to move forward once more. The repairs were finally underway and, slowly but surely, both John and Alan's injuries were beginning to heal. So why, now that the fears concerning his family were no longer such an immediate issue, was he so darn _restless_?

Frowning, he propped his head up on his hand, anchoring his elbow against the bed as he peered over the pillow and towards his bedside table. The red numerals on his alarm clock glared _'01:32' _in his direction, almost scolding him for still being awake. He couldn't understand it, his body should've been exhausted after the long hours he and Virgil had spent fixing all the minor damage that Thunderbird 1 had sustained earlier that week.

Suddenly, something within Scott's chest lurched sharply. Jerking out of his own thoughts with a sharp intake of breath, he blinked, his heart hammering within his chest.

"What the hell?" he muttered, a bemused frown tugging at his brow as he swallowed, trying to get rid of the strange tingling sensation that seemed to run across his shoulders and down his arms, fading out into his fingertips.

He grimaced as a cold, sickly feeling began working its way up his chest slowly. Oh, he knew _that_ feeling. He'd felt it time and time again throughout his life. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Throwing off the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, reaching out to tap the base of the lamp beside his bed. It immediately turned on, illuminating the room with its yellow glow. Scott blinked, squinting slightly as his eyes watered, unaccustomed to the brightness.

Grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser, he hurriedly pulled it over his head, already making his way towards the door. Wrestling his arm through one of the sleeves, he opened the door, stepping out into the dimly-lit corridor. There was a gnawing feeling within his stomach, telling him that one of his brothers needed him. He couldn't explain how he knew this, or why he always seemed to be right in his suspicions, but he honestly didn't care. He had more important things on his mind.

Walking a few steps down the hallway, he came to a halt outside Gordon's bedroom. Pushing the door open, he peered into the darkness, his keen eyes running over the shifting form of his copper-haired sibling. Gordon had always been a restless sleeper. If he wasn't constantly moving about on the mattress, you knew that something was wrong; either he was hurt, or merely so exhausted that his body simply couldn't manufacture enough energy to keep his limbs active during the night.

But clearly Gordon was fine. Smiling fondly at the sight, Scott shook his head, stepping back into the hallway and pulling the door softly closed behind him.

_One brother down, three to go._

Walking a few metres down the corridor, Scott arrived at the door to Alan's bedroom. Suddenly, his heart lurched within him again, and he felt the cold feeling intensify within his stomach. Worry and concern pulsing through him with each beat of his thudding heart, Scott swiftly reached out and turned the handle, pushing the door open. The laboured breathing and pained whimpers emanating from the other side of the room alerted him to the problem.

The nightmares had begun.

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_Alan ran down the darkened corridor, his heart thundering within his chest as he gasped for breath, his body aching as he forced he weary limbs to keep going. The dark shadow chased him, climbing up the grey walls as sweeping across the floor like an inky tide, lapping at Alan's heels. Quickening his pace, he clenched his fists and ran faster, the unfamiliar metallic walls whizzing past him as he turned another corner, desperately searching for an exit. He had to get out!_

_"Alan!"_

_Stumbling in surprise, he came to a dead halt at his father's cry, his stomach dropping as he spun around on the spot. Eyes darting from left to right, he tried to make out where the voice had come from. However the corridor before him was empty, the dim overhead light flickering and buzzing, making his eyes sting._

_"Dad?" he called, taking a step forward. _

_"Alan, no!" __There it was again, his father's voice. _

_Beginning to jog back towards the turn in the corridor, Alan felt the first bubble of hope begin to well up in his chest. If his father was there, everything would be alright. His dad would save him. Together, they'd find a way out of this - this - whatever this place was._

_"Dad! Dad, where are you?" Alan yelled, quickening his pace. He turned the corner of the corridor at full speed, his worries forgotten in the sudden rush of adrenaline - and ran straight into the shadow._

_The temperature dropped dramatically as the darkness engulfed him. The spark of hope within his heart was instantly snuffed out, being replaced instead by a gut-wrenching fear. Whispers surrounded him; harsh, cold voices growing louder and louder, their wordless babble creating a thundering crescendo in his mind. There was someone - something - moving in the shadow beside him. He could sense its presence. But he couldn't get away. __He couldn't see anything. He couldn't **feel** anything. Oh God, he - he couldn't breathe!_

_Panic tore through his chest and he began to struggle, finding that he was suddenly able to move his limbs. He was in control of his body once more. Then he was swimming upwards, up through the inky blackness and out of the shadow, away from the biting cold and whispering voices, towards the warmth he knew he would find above the surface._

_Then, in the blink of an eye, the shadow was gone. The suddenness of it all left him feeling dizzy and disorientated, and for a moment he had to squeeze his eyes shut tight as the world spun. At last, he prised his eyelids open.__ He was staring down at his sneaker-clad feet, blinking owlishly, his breathing heavy as he felt the panic slowly begin to ebb away. The metal floor beneath his feet looked extremely familiar. Where had he seen it before?_

_Glancing up, he blinked again, gazing in surprise as he realised that he was now standing in the dimly-lit silo of Thunderbird 1. Above him, the charged thrusters of the giant aircraft hissed, bursts of steam issuing forth from the coolant vents and blowing hot against his hair. He could smell the carbon-syrillium ignition fuel lacing the air, blended with the musky aroma of hot metal. He knew he had been here before. Yes, there was definitely something familiar about this, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was._

_"Hello, Alan."_

_His heart shot up into his throat and his head snapped upwards, his eyes widening as he stared in shock at the figure who stood before him. The Hood gazed at him steadily, his blood-red eyes glinting in the dim light of the silo as he took a step towards the young teenager. _

_Alan hurriedly shuffled backwards, turning sharply with the intention of running in the opposite direction. As he spun around, he froze, sucking in a shallow breath as he came face to face with the same robed man he had just turned his back on. Alan felt his blood run cold as his mouth went dry._

_"You can't get away from me that easily, Alan," the Hood taunted, his low tone laced with malice and contempt._

_Alan shook his head, rapidly retreating backwards towards the silo wall as he kept his gaze locked onto the older man. "No," he breathed. "No, please. Go away."_

_The Hood laughed coldly, and Alan quickened his pace, almost stumbling over himself as he continued to stare at his enemy. Suddenly, he felt his back hit something that **wasn't** a wall. Spinning around, he gasped again, the Hood's smirking face inches away from his own. _

_"Alan, Alan, Alan," the crazed man growled, the anger in his red eyes burning through Alan's skull. "You can never run from me. It doesn't matter how far you flee or how well you hide yourself away - I will always find you."_

_Alan shook his head, fear gripping his very soul as he took a step backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing awkwardly on the floor. Pushing his hands against the metal plates, he began to edge slowly away from the robed figure, his eyes remaining glued to the olive-skinned head that shone in the light of the wall-panel behind the Hood's dark form._

_The Hood let out a low chuckle. "What's the matter, Alan? Don't you want to play?"_

_Alan could barely breathe as the terror curled around his chest. Sucking in another shallow breath, he shook his head again, frantically backing away._

_"Leave me alone!" he yelled, reaching the other side of the silo and pushing himself up against the access hatch, standing shakily to his feet. The Hood simply continued to stare at him, the manic smirk never leaving his face as his red eyes cut through the darkness like lasers._

_Panting for breath, Alan watched as the inky blackness around the edges of the silo seemed to intensify, spreading across the floor and swallowing up the dim outline of the Hood's body. The bright light of the control panel on the opposite wall was engulfed by the darkness, the rest of the silo now only partially lit by the small light above the entrance to the access corridor where Alan stood. Pressing himself against the hatch, the teenager tried to calm his breathing._

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

_Alan felt as though his heart might have stopped beating. Ever so slowly, he turned his head towards the glass panel behind him. The window remained dark. Turning to face the hatch completely, he frowned, confused. Odd. He could've sworn that he'd heard a tapping noise only a moment ago. But perhaps it was just his imagination._

_Suddenly, the light behind the hatch window turned on, illuminating the grinning face of the Hood. Alan let out a startled yelp, stumbling backwards again, his breathing ragged as fear overcame his body. The Hood raised a gloved hand and tapped on the window again, his eyes never leaving Alan's face._

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

_"No," Alan whispered, his limbs having trouble moving as the cold terror swept over him. The Hood slowly lowered his hand, the grin sliding off his face and being replaced by a stony expression._

_"Open the door, Alan," he ordered, tonelessly._

_"No!" Alan screamed back, pushing himself to his feet and backing away swiftly, shaking his head. "Just leave me and my family alone!"_

_"Why are you so desperate to save the people who despise you?" the Hood asked lightly, and evil smile curling his lips. "Your father doesn't love you, Alan. To him, you're just a disappointment, a waste of time and money. He's given you so much, and you've never once said thank you or given anything back. And as for your brothers," the Hood chuckled softly, "don't you realise how much they hate you? You're just an annoying parasite, sucking away at your family's happiness with your selfish whining."_

_Alan bit his lip, the truth behind the Hood's words making his throat ache. Suddenly, a __roaring sound filled his ears, and Alan looked up slowly. Above him, Thunderbird 1's thrusters were on fire, burning with a bright orange glow that stung Alan's eyes. The fire seemed to take an eternity to hit him, but he couldn't move out of the way. He became engulfed by the flames, his skin tingling with warmth as he squeezed his eyes tight shut. He was dying. He couldn't stop the fire. He couldn't even open his eyes. The ability to breathe seemed to have left him. His lungs were already beginning to ache from the strain. He was going to suffocate!_

_"Thunderbird 5, come in!"_

_A loud gasp escaped his lips. Wrenching his eyelids open, he panted for breath as he gazed frantically around the room. He was in the Command and Control Centre, standing in front of the main control panel. Various monitors in before him displayed blurred readings and measurements that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. But one screen - the screen directly in front of him - displayed a camera shot of the interior of Thunderbird 5. He could see it all so clearly over the live feed: the battered consoles, the burnt-out circuitry panels, the shards of fibreglass and metal floating around in the zero-G atmosphere. It was almost as though he was aboard the station himself._

_"Thunderbird 5, p-p-please respond!"_

_Alan started as Brains stepped in front of him, flicking a switch on one of the monitors. The older man turned to look at him, a serious expression upon his face._

_"Alan, you have to s-save them," he stated flatly, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "You're the only one who can. Don't f-f-f-let them down again. If you don't do something soon, they're all going to die!"_

_As the scientist grabbed a data-pad off the desk and brushed past him, Alan gazed at the screen in shock, watching as his father's still form floated past the camera. It was up to him. He had to save his family. He couldn't fail this time. Swallowing heavily, Alan turned to look over his shoulder._

_"How long do they have le-" The words died on his lips as he saw only empty space. Brains had vanished. With a jolt of fear, he realised that he was alone again. But that couldn't happen! His family were relying on him to restore power, but he didn't know how to work the console! He needed help!_

_"Impact in thirty seconds," a female voice supplied cheerfully. "Total destruction imminent."_

_Alan's heart began to thump loudly in his chest again. Pressing the comm button on the panel in front of him, he took a deep breath._

_"Dad! Dad, can you hear me?" he called, desperation surging through him as he watched the seconds ticking by at the bottom of the screen. "Dad, you need to wake up, you need to tell me what to do!"_

_Silence. _

_Alan slammed his hand against the control panel. "Dad, please!" he begged. "Please, wake up!"_

_"Impact in fifteen seconds," the voice chimed. "Total destruction imminent."_

_Alan kicked the console as hard as he could, grabbing onto the sides of the monitor. "C'mon, don't do this!" he yelled. "Scott! Scotty! Somebody, wake up! John, please, I can't - you have to - I don't know what to do, you have to tell what to do! Virgil, please, wake up! What do I need to do? Gordon, c'mon! Why won't you answer?!"_

_Silence._

_"Impact in five seconds. Total destruction imminent."_

_"No! No, Dad, please! Dad!"_

_Alan could only stare, horrified, as the last seconds slipped by. Suddenly, the monitors in front of him went blank, the dark screens reflecting Alan's shocked face as he stood in front of them, frozen to the spot in shock._

_"No," he whispered. "God, no, please."_

_Tears came to his eyes as a dagger-like pain shot through his chest, the salty drops spilling over the edge and burning hot, wet trails down his cheeks. He sank to his knees, clutching onto the edge of the panel with both hands as he sobbed, his heart breaking. _

_"Dad," he gasped, shaking his head. "Don't do this. You can't!"_

_He'd lost everything he'd ever loved in a single moment. His entire family was gone. Dead. He was never going to see them again._

_"You can't leave me," he whispered, his voice cracking as another sob tore at his chest. "Please. Dad, come back. Please."_

_He gripped onto the console hard enough to make his fingers scream in pain, loud sobs tearing from his throat and echoing in the silence of the office. He wanted to die. Why hadn't he been killed too? Anything would be better than this. He was alone. He was all alone._

_Suddenly, the floor seemed to give way beneath him. Letting out a loud gasp, he continued to cling to the edge of the console, trying to pry his heavy eyelids open. A loud 'whir' sounded beneath him, roaring in his ears as he glanced around, trying to pinpoint his exact location. He was dangling in the air, his hands the only thing keeping him from falling. An updraft of cool air blew around him, and Alan blinked, objects and colours intensifying as they formed into a clear picture._

_Oh God._

_The Mole's spinning teeth were practically brushing against the soles of his sneakers, the sharp edges getting closer and closer by the second. Looking upwards slowly, Alan blanched, feeling his stomach churn sickeningly within him as ice-cold fear wrapped itself around his heart. The Hood grinned down at him from his position on the walkway, his red eyes glinting victoriously as he leaned over the rail._

_"You failed, Alan," he murmured, the evil smile tugging at his mouth once again. "You killed your own family."_

_Alan felt his grip on the walkway loosening. "No!" he screamed, shaking his head frantically. "They're not dead! You're lying!"_

_The Hood laughed deeply. "Come now, Alan, don't try to deceive yourself. You saw what happened with your own eyes. You father and brothers are dead - and it's all your fault."_

_"No!" Alan yelled, his voice cracking with emotions, his heart aching at __the truth behind the Hood's words. Tears pooled in his eyes once more as his throat tightened. "They can't be dead! I need them! Dad wouldn't leave me, he - he wouldn't!"_

_Another laugh, and the Hood shook his head. "Poor little Alan," he crooned, his eyes flashing. "Nobody to save him now."_

_A foot slammed down on Alan's fingers, and he felt both hands begin to slide off the metal rail. He cried out, hearing the loud 'whir' of the Mole below him increase in volume. The Hood grinned manically, raising his foot again._

_"Goodbye, Alan."_

_Then he was falling, spiralling downwards towards the sharp teeth of the Mole, the rush of the wind against him, cooling his burning limbs. And, just for a moment, he almost found the experience relaxing. But that was before he hit the water._

_He inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open as he splashed frantically, the inky-black water too heavy to swim against. It was dragging him down; down into the dark depths below, pulling him away from the light. His limbs were growing heavier, a pain beginning to burn in his side as he drowned, choking on the water in his lungs, the Hood's laughter filling his ears. The whispers had begun again, cold hands grabbing him roughly, twisting his arm around and pinning it to the small of his back, spinning him round until he had lost all sense of direction._

_The dizzying descension was making his vision blur, his heart pounding hard enough in his chest to break through the ribcage. Hands gripped his shoulders tightly, pinning him against something solid as he was dragged down, down, down...._

... ... ...

"Alan!"

Heart lurching within him, Alan sucked in a loud, gasping breath, his eyes snapping open. Above him, Scott's worried face solidified, his concerned cobalt-blue eyes shining in the light of the bedside lamp. Alan panted for breath, his eyes burning moistly as he stared upwards at his older brother.

Scott gently released his tight hold on Alan's shoulders, one hand moving up to thumb away a tear on his younger brother's face. Brushing Alan's damp fringe back from his clammy forehead, his shifted in his position on the edge of the mattress.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asked softly, concern lining his voice.

Alan blinked up at him, his breathing still ragged as awareness slowly returned to him. The muffled gasps of his sobs filled the silence of the room, another tear spilling over and running down his cheek. But his terror had given way to relief upon seeing his older sibling, and realisation was dawning. _A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. Oh, thank God._

His fingers throbbed, and he realised that he was clutching tightly onto the covers. Carefully opening his clenched fist, he winced, flexing his fingers as he tried to bring some warmth back into the stiff digits. Pushing himself up on shaky arms, Alan slid back until he was leaning against the headboard. Scott inched closer to his side, the concerned expression still in place, and Alan swallowed to ease the ache in his throat. He drew an arm across his face, swiping away the remnants of tears and trying to get his breathing back under control as he pushed off the covers that had become twisted around his legs. His damp t-shirt clung to him, the cool air of his bedroom providing a welcome chill to his overly warm limbs.

Scott squeezed his brother's shoulder again, more gently this time. "Alan?"

"I'm okay," Alan murmured, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Shifting around on the mattress so that his legs hung over the side of the bed, he turned to lean his back against the cool wall, stiffening slightly as the cold seeped through the damp material of his shirt and pressed against his burning skin.

"You sure?" Scott pressed, pushing himself across the mattress so that he was sitting beside his little brother, leaning back against the wall as Alan was.

Alan swallowed, his vision blurring again. The turmoil of emotions were still rolling around within him; the fear, the anger, the pain, the guilt, the anguish - his heart still ached with the weight of them. His chest heaved with another sob, his body still caught up in the distress. He sucked in another ragged breath, pulling his knees up and ignoring his throbbing ribs as he closed his eyes, trying to dispel the vivid images from his mind.

"Hey," Scott murmured, wrapping an arm about Alan's shoulders. "It's alright. It was just a bad dream, Sprout."

Despite the slight embarrassment of the situation, Alan couldn't help but smile a little at his brother's statement. It had been years since Scott had said that to him. But he had to admit, it worked. The fear was already beginning to dissipate.

Scott peered down at him, love and warmth shining in his eyes. "You wanna talk about it?"

Leaning against the older Tracy, teenage pride shoved roughly to the side, Alan took in a shaky breath. "I couldn't save you," he said softly, frowning inwardly at the way his voice sounded. "I tried but - but I didn't know how. You and Dad and the other guys, you - Thunderbird 5 hit the atmosphere and you - you didn't make it."

Scott squeezed him tighter. "Must've been one helluva nightmare," he murmured. "What happened after that?"

"You remember what happened in the bank?" Alan continued, his voice sounding overly loud in his ears against the silence of the room. Scott stiffened slightly, his face hardening, and Alan swallowed heavily. "Well....it kinda happened again."

As Scott's grip strengthened all the more, Alan winced, but didn't move away. Letting out a long sigh, he shook is head, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. It was a comfortable silence, and Alan found it soothing. And, in truth, it wasn't as though he felt like talking much. When it came to his emotions, he'd never been a big conversationalist.

Minutes passed before he spoke again, and he was pleased to note that his voice now sounded stronger and less...shaky....than it had before.

"What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?" Alan inquired, glancing over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, wincing as the bright light from the lamp stung at his weak eyes. "It's past one-thirty."

Scott shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he replied lightly. "I just came in to check on you, that's all. Good thing I did, too. You could've hurt yourself with the way you were thrashing about like that."

Alan nodded, accepting the explanation, too tired and too sore to bother pressing the matter. He sighed, frowning slightly as one aspect of his nightmare continued to poke at him from the back of his mind. He had been trying to ignore it for the past five minutes, but it didn't seem to want to go away. The Hood's words still tumbled around in his head, repeating themselves over and over to such an extent that Alan was contemplating slamming his head against the wall to silence the voice. At last, he could take it no more.

"Scott," he began, a little hesitantly. "Am I annoying?"

Scott's brow crinkled into a frown as he turned to look down at the shorter Tracy beside him. "What?"

"The Hood said that you and the other guys hated me because I'm annoying," Alan murmured, feeling rather stupid for raising such an issue.

Scott shook his head, sighing in slight exasperation. "Alan, c'mon, you know that's a load of crap."

Alan glanced upwards, his eyes meeting Scott's. "Is it?" he questioned evenly. "Are you telling me that you've never once hated me for getting into so much trouble all the time? For always being at the centre of every argument, for managing to get myself expelled from two different boarding schools? C'mon, Scotty, ever since Dad sent me off to school, I've been a total asshole."

Scott surprised expression hardened, and his arm slipped from around Alan's shoulders.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he held up a hand and frowned at the younger Tracy. "Stop right there. First off, watch your mouth, kid. That's the second time you've used that word about yourself, and I'm not gonna tolerate it again, understood?"

Alan nodded mutely, unable to drop his gaze from the fierce cobalt-blue eyes.

"And secondly," Scott continued, his voice firm. "Don't you _ever_ suggest that I hate you. Ever. I'd die before that happened, and I know the guys feel the same way. No matter what you do or how much you mess up, you'll always be our little brother. We care about you too much to hate you. Maybe we don't tell you this often enough, kiddo, but we love you. Without you, there wouldn't _be_ International Rescue. Our family would fall apart."

Scott wrapped his arm about Alan's shoulders again, his expression softening. "And lastly," he murmured. "You shouldn't have such a downer on yourself. You're a great kid, Al. You're brave and honest, and you have a good heart. The fact that you saved the Hood, even after everything he'd done to you, is proof of that. You have a kinder heart than me," he admitted, lowering his voice a little. "Given the chance, I wouldn't have hesitated to drop the psycho bastard onto the Mole."

Alan opened his mouth to say something, but Scott held up a hand again and shook his head. "Never mind about that now," he interjected. "We'll talk more in the morning, if you like. But kiddo, I want you to remember something for me, alright?" At Alan's nod, he squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Everybody makes mistakes, Sprout. Everybody, not just you. Even me - no, scrap that, _especially _me. I've messed up more times than I can remember."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "Like when?"

Scott blushed slightly, hating giving away such well-kept secrets but knowing that Alan needed to be reassured that he wasn't the only imperfect Tracy.

"D'you remember that awesome red sports car in the photograph on Dad's desk? The one he keeps stored in that garage in New York?" he began. As Alan gave another nod, he swallowed and glanced away in embarrassment. "Well, when I was fourteen, I kinda..." he paused, shifting uncomfortably. "Totalled it."

Alan's eyes grew as big as saucers. "You?" he asked, shocked by such a revelation.

Scott nodded, wincing at the memory. "Yup. Trust me, kiddo, I was no saint. Dad grounded me for months after that. And then there was the time I decided I was old enough to fly Tracy One - at the grand age of nine and a half years old," he continued, seemingly oblivious to the way that Alan's mouth dropped open. "And there was that time I set the kitchen on fire when I was trying to bake Mom some cookies for Mothers' Day. Oh, and when I was eleven, I borrowed Tom's motorbike without asking permission. Ended up with some nasty grazes when I spilled on the driveway. Not as bad as John, though. He was sitting behind me and skinned his leg pretty badly. Dad was caught between panic and fury - trust me, it wasn't a pretty sight."

Sighing deeply, he turned to face Alan once more. "Bottom line is, Sprout, that you're just too much like me for your own good."

Alan blinked, looking down at his knees as his brain processed this new wad of information. So perhaps Scott wasn't so perfect after all. That certainly changed a few things.

"Wow," he finally managed.

Scott chuckled, reaching up to ruffle the teenager's blond hair. "Oh, and do I find you annoying?" he asked lightly, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Hell yeah. But that's because you're my little brother. If you weren't bugging me all the time, I'd know that something was seriously wrong with the universe. Little brothers are _supposed _to annoy their older siblings. I mean c'mon, d'you honestly think you're the only brother who gets on my nerves? Heck, I find John and Virgil equally as annoying on occasions. And don't even get me _started_ on Gordon."

Alan had to laugh at his brother's statement, and in doing so he felt his heart lightening. Scott grinned, chuckling as he squeezed Alan against him. A few seconds of silence ticked by, before Alan shifted slightly, his damp shirt making him feel a little uncomfortable. Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed, making sure his legs were steady before moving across the room and over to his closet. Opening the door, he grabbed a t-shirt off the shelf and dropped it onto the dresser nearby, pushing the closet door closed again. He could sense Scott's eyes following his movements and sighed again, feeling as though he were being scrutinised. Did Scott have to be such a mother-hen?

_Of course he does_, Alan smiled, _that's what makes him a Tracy._

Alan swiftly grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, stiffening and letting out a soft hiss as he sore ribs throbbed in protest. Biting his lip, he grimaced as he lowered his arms, dropping the damp t-shirt onto the floor as he held his side protectively.

"You okay?" Scott's voice murmured. Alan felt a surge of gratitude when he realised that the pilot was at least allowing him a smidgen of freedom in not rushing over to help him. His older brother remained seated on the bed, back pressed against the wall as he gazed at Alan steadily.

"Yeah," Alan smiled, grabbing his clean t-shirt and donning it a little more carefully. "I just moved too fast, that's all. I'm fine."

Deciding that bending down to pick up the shirt wouldn't do anything to help his already sore ribs, Alan left the garment where he had dropped it, moving back over to the bed and sitting down on the mattress. Scott regarded him silently for a moment, one knee brought up to his chest as he leaned his arm upon it.

"Are you gonna be alright?" he asked softly.

Alan smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Ace." Scott pushed himself off the mattress and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck as he yawned. "Then I'm going back to bed. Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll see you in the morning."

The eldest Tracy son headed towards the door, and Alan settled himself back beneath the covers, reaching over the side of the bed to switch off the lamp on the bedside table. As Scott opened the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder towards the young teenager.

"Oh, and one last thing," he said. Alan turned to look at him, and Scott's face became hard. "This conversation stays between you and me, got it? If Gordon gets wind of this, then _I_ will be the one giving you nightmares. Are we clear?"

Alan grinned, raising a hand to give Scott a half-hearted farewell. "Don't sweat it, Scotty," he replied. "'Night!"

Scott smiled, winking at him secretively. "G'night, Sprout."

The door closed and silence once again fell across the room. Alan sighed, leaning back against his pillow and staring up at the ceiling, admiring the way that the yellow glow of the lamp created rings of differing shades against the light blue of the paint. He put an arm behind his head, the fingers of his other hand tracing lightly over the edge of the support bandages around his midriff.

_I doubt I'll be getting much sleep now. Besides, the pain meds Tom gave me earlier knocked me out before seven, so I probably don't need to sleep anymore. Man, that hurt. The kitchen counter hit me pretty hard, Virge was surprised I didn't crack anything. But hey, that's what you get for being so clumsy. I should've been watching where I was going. Poor Onaha, I think I took ten years off her life when I tripped. And as for Dad-_

Alan paused, feeling something stir within his chest. Frowning, he sat up, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up. Heading across the room, he pulled open his bedroom door and stepped out into the corridor. There was something he had to do.

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Jeff closed his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face and yawning wearily as the print on the electronic data-pad in his hand began to blur slightly. Frowning, he blinked heavily, annoyed with himself at his own fatigue.

Usually, working late into the night wasn't a problem for him. But since his _supposedly_ best friend, Thomas Palmar, had limited him to one cup of coffee a day, he'd found that his energy levels seemed to plummet after about nine o'clock in the evening. This was the third time that he'd read this particular page of reports, and none of the facts seemed to be entering his sluggish brain. With a grunt of weary resignation, Jeff set the pad down beside him on the couch, leaning back and letting out a long sigh. This was all Tom's fault. Earlier that week, he'd lost his temper at the doctor when Thomas had threatened to send in an addiction therapist. And afterwards, Jeff had felt guilty about his outburst.

But not now. No, no, no. Now he would be quite willing to set his best friend's precious motorbike on fire. Or he could just give it to Scott again. Either way, the vehicle would be destroyed and Thomas would suffer.

Jeff frowned, raising an eyebrow. _Man, I'm evil._

It had been a long week. With engineers from NASA helping Brains aboard Thunderbird 5 with the bulk of the repair work, Jeff had been cross-communicating between the senior Hackenbacker and Admiral David Ford, his old colleague from his days working with NASA on their frontier space project. Meanwhile, on the island, he'd also been helping repair the damage that the house, the silos and the earth-bound rescue vehicles had sustained. At least his Tracy Industries work had been put on hold. He'd called the head office a few days ago to inform them that he would be taking a couple of weeks off after their recent 'family crisis'. He'd figured that, what with his family still struggling along the road to recovery, business would have to take a backseat for a while.

"Dad?"

Jeff opened his eyes, raising his head from the back of the couch and glancing towards the doorway to his office in surprise.

"Alan," he murmured, sitting up as concern began mounting within his chest. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

The blond teenager smiled softly. "I thought I'd find you in here," he remarked lightly, stepping into the room, his bare feet hardly making a sound against the laminate flooring. "Tom would go ballistic if he found you up at this hour, you know."

Jeff relaxed a little, patting the empty area of couch beside him as an invitation for Alan to join him. "I won't tell him if you don't. What are you doing up so late, anyway? Last time I checked, those pain meds had knocked you out for the count."

Alan smiled, walking across to the couch and sitting down beside his father, peering around the Tracy patriarch's form and spotting the data-pad.

"What ya working on?" he inquired, leaning back to take some of the pressure off his midriff.

"I was just reading through some progress reports from Thunderbird 5," Jeff replied softly, his eyes running over Alan's body. "You still haven't answered my question, Alan."

The young Tracy shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," he explained, shifting a little in his embarrassment.

"Nightmares?" Jeff guessed sympathetically. At Alan's small nod of confirmation, he casually slipped his arm across the back of the couch. "D'you wanna talk about it?"

Alan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Now I see where Scott gets it from," he remarked.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Never mind," the teenager smiled.

Jeff allowed the subject to slide, leaning back against the couch once more as he studied Alan's face. The blond-haired Tracy seemed perfectly happy to simply sit in silence, and Jeff let him. If Alan wanted to talk, which the father of five could sense was the reason for his son's appearance, the boy would do so in his own time. Jeff would just have to be patient.

"How're the ribs?" he inquired finally, breaking the silence.

Alan shrugged. "Better than earlier, but they still kinda smart."

"You need some more meds?" Jeff pressed. Alan rolled his eyes and turned to look him at last, a slight grin upon his face. Jeff held up his hand before his youngest could make a comment. "Okay, okay, I'll drop it. I'm just checking. Although, whilst we're on that subject..." He shifted a little and sat up straighter. "I was supposed to tell you earlier, but it completely slipped my mind; I had a conversation with your headmaster this morning, and we've agreed that it would be best for 'all concerned' if you take another week off school."

Alan frowned slightly. "What, you told him about - ya know - the family business?"

Jeff laughed softly. "Certainly not. He's a good headmaster, but I wouldn't trust the man with a secret like that. No, I told him that you and John had been involved in a climbing accident earlier this week, and due to the nature of your injuries, you might struggle with being away from John so soon after the incident if you went back on Monday. In fact," Jeff paused, locking eyes with his youngest son. "I discussed pulling you out of school altogether."

"What?" Alan gasped, jerking upright, wincing as his side throbbed. "What d'you mean? Why?"

Jeff sighed, wrapping his arm around Alan's shoulders. "I mean that if you don't want to go back to school after what's happened recently, I'm not gonna force you. You can use the home education programme that Tin-Tin's been following. I'm not saying you have to stay, but the decision's entirely up to you. I just want you to feel safe."

Calming down a little, Alan shook his head, putting a hand on his father's arm. "Dad, I wanna go back to school," he stated, almost imploringly. "I agree that maybe another week off would be good, since John's not fully back on his feet yet, but I don't want you to pull me out of Wharton's. Please?"

Jeff looked vaguely surprised at his son's answer, and Alan swallowed before continuing.

"Dad, I know I can do better," he said softly. "I wanna prove that to you. I wanna show you that I'm capable of achieving something. I wanna give you something back, like the other guys did. I - I just wanna make you proud of me."

Jeff's throat tightened a little. "Oh son," he murmured, running a hand through Alan's hair as he stared into the brilliantly blue orbs of his youngest boy. "A day hasn't gone by when I haven't been proud of you. I'm proud of all my boys. And not because of their Olympic medals or their military uniforms. Simply because you're my children, and I love you. And you-"

Jeff's voice caught slightly, and he swallowed heavily. "Alan, I'm proud of you for who you are. And I always will be." He cupped Alan's cheek, brushing his thumb over the skin gently. "You're so much like your mom."

Pulling Alan into his side, he rested his chin atop the mop of soft blond hair, sighing deeply. Pride and love filled his heart to overflowing, spreading a comfortable warmth throughout his body. Man, he was tired. He couldn't honestly say how long they sat there together - it could have been hours for all he knew. But he was perfectly happy for the first time in a long while. His own wound from the Hood's attack, he realised, was finally beginning to heal.

Glancing down through half-lidded eyes, Jeff smiled fondly. Alan had fallen asleep beside him, his head resting against his shoulder as he lay across the couch. Closing his eyes, Jeff leaned his head against his son's, feeling the pull of sleep dragging him down.

_Tom's gonna give me hell in the morning when he realises that I was up half the night working. But who cares? I'm not about to wake the kid. And besides, I haven't felt this close to him in years. Tom can yell himself hoarse if he wants to, but I won't regret my decision. My boys are healing, and I've got my baby back. What more could I want?_

The Tracy father drifted off to sleep, oblivious to the presence of his best friend, who stood just outside the doorway to the room. Thomas Palmar smiled as he regarded father and son for a long moment, his heart warming within him. He'd definitely made the right decision in depriving Jeff of his coffee. Sure, the morning afterwards had been a little unpleasant for everybody, but things seemed to be quietening down now. And besides, Jeff would never have fallen asleep if he'd been dosed up on caffeine.

Thomas reached around the side of the door and dimmed the office lights, before turning around and yawning, moving away from the doorway with the intention of going back to his own room for some well earned rest. Making his way silently back down the corridor, he smirked triumphantly as the image of the two snoozing Tracy's flashed before his eyes.

"Tommy," he sighed proudly. "You da man."

* * *

**_In the next chapter, we see the arrival of a couple more family friends. With repairs underway and bonds steadily strengthening, will their presence help to catalyze the healing process? And how are Fermat and Tin-Tin coping? Find out soon!_**

**_Ta-daaa! There you go, a nice long chapter for you. I hope you enjoyed it. Jean, was the fluff satisfactory? What reading did it get on the fluffometer? (*grins*) Okay, ast, ready for another round of space-monster catching? Lols._**

**_Does it make me a sad wuss that I cried when I wrote the part where Alan's family died in the nightmare? I had to stop writing twice coz I kept hitting the wrong keys. I was a total wreck. That's not....abnormal....right? (*frowns thoughtfully and reaches for psychiatrist's phone number AGAIN*)_**

**_Only two more chapters of this story to go folks! I'll try and have the next installment posted before next Friday, but no promises. I'm a very busy teenager now that exams are fast approaching._**

**_REVIEW PLEASE!!!!!! Feedback is lovely, and helpful concrit is even better!!!!_**

**_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX_**


	8. Chapter 8: Completing The Puzzle

**_Yo!_**

**_Thanks for the awesome reviews, guys, you really made my week! My social life is going kersplat, what with exams and revision and all, so fan fiction seems to have been my sole source of amusement recently. Plus I've been ill the past couple of days (*pouts*) which totally sucked. Big hugs to DD (sorry, I mean CC) for keeping me amused. She may be cruel, but without her to bug me, fan fiction just wouldn't be the same. Love ya!_**

**_Lissysue85 is still feeling poorly, so my love and best wishes go to her again with this chapter. Feel better soon, honey!_**

**_And ast, thanks for the typo pointers. They're always appreciated. *hugs*_**

**_Okay, on with the show!_**

* * *

Jeff leaned his elbow against the table top, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, slowly counting backwards from ten - in Chinese. He found that this often helped to calm him down when his fuse was particularly short - as it was at this particular point in time.

"Why?" he asked, his voice slightly strained.

Smiling, Thomas Palmar patted his best friend on the arm sympathetically as he sat down in the chair beside him. Reaching across the table, he accepted the glass of orange juice from Onaha with a knowing look, before turning back towards Jeff and setting the beverage down in front of him.

"Because I care about you, that's why," he answered cheerfully.

Jeff opened his eyes to glare at the doctor. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn't be doing this," he complained, ignoring the muffled snorts that came from the rest of the table's occupants.

Thomas took a sip of his orange juice and shrugged. "I did warn you."

John grinned as his father let out an unintelligible mumble, the eldest Tracy taking a sip of his juice and using a fork to poke at his breakfast dully. Despite his age, the Tracy father was still able to pull off a convincingly stubborn and moody pout. Shaking his head and smiling at his dad's behaviour, John shifted forward in his seat so that the chair wasn't in contact with the still-healing burn in the centre of his back.

As Thomas shot him an amused look from across the table, he muffled another snort, trying not to choke on his scrambled eggs as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. Life hadn't felt this good in a long while. It had been over a week since the Hood's attack and, on the whole, his body was feeling a good deal better. His burns were healing, the hairline fracture he had sustained no longer ached and throbbed as it had once done, and the headaches from his minor concussion had all but disappeared. He and his brothers were doing just fine.

His father, on the other hand, wasn't such a happy clam. The previous day, Jeff had gone against Thomas' clear instructions and had consumed an additional two cups of coffee behind Onaha's back whilst the housekeeper had been busy sweeping the pool decking - something she always did each and every morning at precisely 11:45am, come rain or shine. Now, John had never perceived his father to be the calculating type, but clearly he had been wrong in his assumption. The extent to which the Tracy patriarch had gone in order to sneak the extra caffeine boost had been truly remarkable. Even Thomas had been impressed, once he'd uncovered the evidence.

That was before, of course, the doctor had put his foot down and banned Jeff from the coffee pot altogether. And with Brains still up on the NASA repair shuttle, Jeff hadn't been able to recruit the younger man in taking sides against Thomas. Of course, John mused, although Brains _was_ a father and therefore understood the importance of caffeine as one of life's necessities, the scientist would probably have agreed with the doctor when it came to health issues. And coffee was a major issue for the Tracy patriarch.

"Tom, this is stupid," Jeff sighed, setting his fork down with a clatter and sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "We're adults. Can't we go about this rationally?"

Thomas leaned back in his chair, smiling gratefully at Onaha as she offered him another muffin.

"Rationally?" he repeated, glancing towards the other man with a raised eyebrow as he set the breakfast item down on his plate. "Jeff, buddy, this is as rational as life gets."

"Look, I just don't see the harm in having _one_ cup of coffee, that's all." Jeff was getting agitated.

Thomas shrugged again, swallowing his mouthful of food. "Oh, there's no harm in it," he agreed lightly.

Jeff raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Then why can't I have one?"

"I warned you what would happen, and now you're being punished," the doctor replied flatly, taking another gulp of juice.

On the other side of the table, Gordon seemed to spontaneously combust, exploding into a shaking pile of snorting limbs as he clutched onto the table, his face going as red as his hair. Beside him, Alan covered his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes watering as he turned slightly pink with the effort it took to remain quiet. Virgil, Scott, Tin-Tin and Fermat looked down simultaneously in an attempt hide their smiles, their shoulders shaking with their forcefully contained amusement. Even Onaha made a swift exit into the kitchen with an empty plate, and soft laughter could be heard floating back into the dining room through the open doorway.

Only John, having perfected his talent through years of practice, was able to keep his composure. Leaning across to where his father sat at the head of the table beside him, he gave the older Tracy a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Dad," he soothed. "Tom's gonna forget all about babysitting you when Jenny arrives."

Thomas' face seemed to melt into happy and dazed expression, his eyes sparkling as he glanced down at his watch. "Seven hours and fourteen minutes," the doctor reported, sighing in content as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes glazing over dreamily. "Ah, life is good."

A short silence fell as the Tracy boys grinned indulgently at the man they viewed as their 'uncle'. John looked down at his plate and smiled. After everything that Thomas had done for his family - both in recent times and way back when he and his brothers had still been kids - it pleased him to see the doctor so happy. Although, in truth, John had never really seen Thomas less than thrilled about any aspect of his life. And after his marriage? Well, to put it simply, Jenny had added that little extra something to Thomas' personality. The two medics were as alike in character as two peas in a pod - but, in many ways, they were also as different as chalk and cheese. However, John could think of no other woman who would have suited the name 'Palmar' like Jennifer had.

Plus she made an awesome 'aunt', _and_ she baked the best chocolate-fudge muffins John had ever tasted.

Jeff glanced sideways at the doctor, noticing that Thomas appeared to have returned to the dreamy and romantic realms of 'La La land'. Smirking, he leaned across the table and cleared his throat.

"Can I have a cup of coffee now?"

Thomas' eyes remained glazed over, but his voice was firm. "Never."

John grinned at his father's deflated expression, draining the last dregs of milk from his glass. '_Seven hours and fourteen minutes of this?'_ he mused. _'Huh. It's gonna be a long day."_

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Alan smirked at his best friend's moody pout, shaking his head.

"You can keep trying as long as you like, Ferm," he chuckled, as the smaller teenager pressed '_Try Again'_. "But you ain't ever gonna beat my score."

Fermat frowned up at him from where he sat on the couch facing the giant TV screen on the wall, his eyes glinting in good humour as a smile tugged at his lips. "Just you w-watch," he mumbled, picking up the remote steering wheel again and glaring at the game's menu options in silent determination. "It just requires a l-lot of accurate timing and precise movement."

"No," Alan argued, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "It requires an insane obsession with speed and the ability to make _really_ crazy decisions at the last second. You have to _be_the bike, Ferm."

Fermat snorted. "You should get Tom to play it. He'd be g-g-awesome."

Alan glanced down at the empty _'Extreme Desert Racers _3' case in his hand, smiling at the picture of the enlarged graphic dirt bike on the front of the box.

"Actually," he said, smiling. "Tom was the one who bought me this. For my eleventh birthday, I think."

As Fermat began to load up the location he wanted for his next race, Alan glanced sideways at him, gnawing on his bottom lip hesitantly. There was something he'd been meaning to ask his friend for days now - something that, no matter how much he tried, he seemed unable to bring up in a casual way.

At last, hating the silence, he turned to face the younger teenager.

"Hey Ferm?" he began lightly, swinging his leg from where he sat perched on the edge of the couch.

Fermat, engrossed in selecting the style of vehicle he wanted, merely acknowledged the mention of his name with a soft, "Mmm-hmm?"

"Are you...are you okay?" the youngest Tracy inquired, mentally slapping himself at the vagueness of his question.

Fermat frowned. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Alan squirmed uncomfortably. God, he hated bringing up subjects like this.

"No, I mean about - about-" _Dammit, just spit it out!_ "About, you know.....stuff."

_Well that was specific._

Fermat lowered the steering wheel so that it rested against his knees, looking up at his best friend curiously. Upon seeing Alan's expression, something hardened in his green eyes and he dropped his gaze again, swallowing visibly as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Do we have t-talk about it?" he asked, his voice a little more constricted this time.

Alan puffed out an exasperated breath. "Look, I'm not really into giving the emotional peptalks," he sighed. "That's Scott's job. But you haven't been yourself all week. Something's definitely up with you. Now c'mon, spill. I'm your best friend, so you should already know that I intend to bully you until you tell me what's going on. Roger that?"

Fermat rolled his eyes, giving a mock salute as he dropped the remote steering wheel down onto the couch beside him, slumping back against the cushions with a heavy sigh. Alan turned around slightly so as to regard him at a better angle, the corner of the arm of the couch digging into his thigh as he continued to swing his leg absently.

"I have ways of making you talk," Alan warned, his voice comically sinister as he let out an evil chuckle.

Fermat laughed. "Look, it's n-nothing, really," the younger boy promised, holding up his hands in a placating gesture as Alan made as though to grab him. "I've just been thinking about s-s-stuff over the past few days, that's all."

"Fermat, you _always_ think about stuff," Alan replied, smirking softly. Then he sobered up a little. "Thinking about what happened last week?"

Fermat shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I just can't help but th-th-wander if I could've done things a little differently. You know, s-stopped the Hood somehow. " He glanced up at Alan, something akin to guilt passing across his face. "Stopped you from getting hurt."

Alan frowned. "Dude, you _did_ stop the Hood. And how were you supposed to-"

"I don't know," Fermat mumbled, cutting him off.

Reaching over to squeeze his friend's shoulder, Alan gazed at the younger boy seriously. "You've gotta stop thinking about what might've happened," he said softly. "It'll drive you crazy. Besides, the 'what-ifs' don't matter. You helped stop the Hood, you rescued those people from the monorail and you saved my family. That's all there is to it. You couldn't have done much more than that. Don't have such a downer on yourself, okay?"

Fermat looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "Who are you, and w-what have you done with the real Alan Tracy?"

Alan laughed, punching the young genius on the arm in good humour. "Shut it, geek. I'm trying to do a deep 'Scott' thing here, you're cramping my style."

"Jerk," Fermat muttered, but he was smiling. He turned back towards the screen, picking up the remote steering wheel again. However, he made no move to continue playing. Instead, he let out a long sigh and stared down, unseeingly, at the object in his hands.

"I just wanna _do _something, ya know?" he murmured, almost to himself. "Like help with some of the m-m-bigger repair jobs or something. I hate just st-st-sitting around and feeling so useless, when all the other guys are working their butts off to get the Thunderbirds back online."

"Yeah," Alan sighed, dropping his gaze to look at the case in his hands. "Me too, Ferm. But my Dad wants us to take it easy. And besides," he sat up a little straighter, smiling as he gave Fermat a playful push. "Dad un-grounded me, so it's not like I have nothing to do. Heck, I hadn't even remembered that he_ had_ grounded me in the first place - well, until Dad mentioned it, of course."

"Duh!" Fermat rolled his eyes as Alan stated the obvious - again.

A short silence fell between them, and Alan nodded to himself, satisfied that Fermat was indeed okay. Well - no, actually, the young teenager wasn't even _near_ being okay, but then again none of them were. However, slowly but surely, they were getting there. Is was going to take time, and a heck of a lot of chocolate - especially for John - but they'd be back into the safe realms of 'okay' soon enough. It just required patience.

"Hey, I've found the munchkins!"

Alan, startled from his daze, nearly fell off the arm of the couch in surprise. Righting himself, he glanced upwards towards the doorway, feeling a wide grin break out across his face as he spotted the tall figure on the other side of the room.

"Andy!" he beamed, standing to his feet as the older man strode across to the couch, slinging an arm about the young Tracy's shoulders and squeezing him into a one-armed hug. Smiling down at him, Dr. Andrew Myers raised an amused eyebrow.

"You've grown," he stated, his tone lightly accusing. "You're not allowed to do that, small-fry."

As Alan opened his mouth to protest, Andy glanced over his head towards Fermat, reaching out to ruffle the boy's dark brown hair fondly. "Hey there, Specs," he grinned, his eyes dancing merrily. "You alright?"

"Yup," came the cheerful reply.

At Fermat's smile, the Air Force medic nodded in approval. "Good. Now," he turned back towards Alan, fixing the small blond with a gentle yet firm stare. "What's all this I hear about you managing to get yourself hurt, _again_?" he asked, his voice lightly teasing. Then his expression became a little more serious. "I'm gonna want to take a look at those ribs of yours later, okay? Just to make sure."

Alan rolled his eyes, shooting a despairing glance towards his eldest brother, who stood smirking in the doorway, looking at least ten years younger than he had before. Alan sighed. Andy had been on the island for less than five minutes, and already the doctor was fussing over his injuries.

_'Ah well,'_ Alan mused as Andy ruffled his hair playfully, '_It's not like the rest of my family don't do it too. I'm kinda used to it by now.'_

"Damn, it's good to see ya, kid," the older man sighed.

"Good to see you too, Mandy," Alan grinned, purposefully adopting the nickname Gordon had given to the young doctor almost five years ago.

Andy gaped at him, before looking back towards Scott with a horrified expression. "Did you hear what he just called me?!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the blond teenager he now held in a gentle headlock. At Scott's laugh, he turned back to look at Alan with an evil grin upon his face. "You're in for it now, Sprout."

"Save some for me!"

Andy's head snapped up towards the door, where John stood leaning against the wooden frame, his arms crossed over his chest casually - well, as casually as they could be, what with his right arm in a sling and all - as he smirked at the scene before him. At his comment, Scott gave him a playful shove, chuckling softly.

"Would ya look at that," Andy grinned, releasing Alan and heading across the room to greet the younger man. "Space-case has decided to interact with us lesser beings. I'm flattered, your Highness, truly I am."

As they embraced, Alan noticed that Andy was carefully avoiding touching the burnt area on John's back. Smiling, he shook his head. Trust the medic to have already ascertained information on the finer details regarding their injuries.

"Say, where's Tom?" Andy said suddenly, moving further into the room with the older Tracy sons and leaning against the wall, looking inquisitively towards his best friend. "I haven't seen him around yet."

Scott grinned. "He's waiting on the east runway."

Andy frowned. "Uh...why?"

"Because he's a sad, love-sick elephant, that's why," John stated lightly, glancing down at his watch as he spoke.

"A sad lovesick.....elephant?" Andy repeated slowly, eyeing John critically as though trying to decide whether or not the man before him was indeed the calm, collected, logical person he'd grown to know and love as a younger brother.

John smirked at him, shaking his head. "You missed the whole elephants/peanuts conversation he and I had the other day," he explained. "You wouldn't get it. But the basic description is accurate - he's waiting on the runway for Jenny."

"Jen- what, she's coming today?" Andy asked, surprised and pleased by the revelation.

"Yup," John confirmed. "But not for another couple of hours."

Andy let out a snort of amusement. "But Tommy-boy's already waiting on the runway for her?" he inquired. At the four simultaneous nods he received from the junior Hackenbacker and the three Tracy sons, he smiled. "Fair enough, Space-case; love-sick elephant is probably as accurate a description as you can get."

"Why are we talking about elephants?"

Gordon and Virgil had arrived in the doorway, looking towards the assembled group in amusement. Alan grinned, shaking his head at the randomness of their conversation, and at how perfectly normal it felt to be discussing the subject in such a serious manner. But he felt blessed because of it.

_Only in my family._

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Lady Penelope Creighton Ward tucked her electronic data-pad into her purse, snapping the clasp shut before leaning back against the soft leather of FAB 1's plush seats. Peering down at her silver watch, she smiled.

"Well done, Parker. We're right on schedule."

"Thank you, m'lady," her manservant replied, and Penelope could hear the pride in his voice. "We are now beginning our final approach to Tracy island."

The blond nodded. "Very good, Parker."

Penelope sighed softly, peering forward through the bullet-proof windscreen towards where she could see the large brown and green mass that was Tracy island in the distance. Surrounded by miles upon miles of blue ocean, it was hard to miss. Smoothing down her casual summer dress, the British aristocrat glanced sideways at her fellow passenger out of the corner of her eye. The brown-haired woman was fixing her hair into a messy bun, her whole being vibrating a cheerful energy that almost seemed to brighten the creams and pinks of the vehicle's interior.

Smiling fondly, Penelope leaned across towards the other woman. "Everything alright, darling?"

Jennifer Palmar turned to look at the younger female, her eyes sparkling merrily as a wide smile broke out across her face.

"Alright?" she repeated. "Penny, my husband - who I haven't kissed in nearly five weeks, you may recall - is going to be waiting for me on that runway." Grinning, she clasped her hands together and let out a rather childish squeal of excitement. "I'm ecstatic!"

Penelope laughed. "That much is obvious."

Jenny giggled, a becoming blush appearing on her cheeks as she looked out of the window at the blue ocean below them. Then she let out a long sigh, reaching up to pat her hair down, tucking a stray lock into the bun and brushing her fringe behind her ears.

"How do I look?" she asked finally, sitting up a little straighter and turning her head to the side, posing comically.

Penelope smiled, running her eyes over the pink and white blouse that she had picked out for her companion earlier that day, nodding in approval as she noted how well it suited the other woman's figure.

"Gorgeous, darling," she stated. "Just as I said you would."

Jenny grinned, glancing down at her top. "I have to admit, it does look rather good on me. I almost feel seventeen again!"

As they laughed together, Penelope felt the car begin to lose height as they made their descent towards Tracy island. Reaching down for her purse, she unsnapped the clasp again and felt around for her pocket mirror. Once the object had been located, she straightened up, sitting back against her seat and scrutinizing her reflection for a long moment. She was pleased to note that a careful application of makeup had successfully hidden the large bags beneath her eyes.

Having spent most of the week dealing with legal issues and hopping between different countries in order to brief government officials, she hadn't exactly been maintaining regular sleeping hours. But all that was going to change once she arrived on the island. Jeff had invited her to stay for a week in order to relax, and she was thoroughly looking forward to taking a well earned break.

Beside her, Jenny leaned forwards in her seat, peering out through he windscreen eagerly. Then as quickly as she had moved forwards, she sat back again, a slightly concerned expression appearing on her face.

"Jenny?" Penelope inquired, lowering her compact mirror as she spoke. "Is something the matter?"

The female medic glanced up, the fingers of her right hand running lightly over the bandage on her left forearm. "I just realised something."

Raising an eyebrow, the International Rescue agent tilted her head to the side. "And that is?"

Jenny chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "That I completely forgot to tell Tommy about _this_." She pointed towards her injured limb.

"Ah," Penelope hid a smile. "And he's going to find the revelation a little concerning, no doubt?"

Turning towards her friend incredulously, Jenny stuttered out, "Concerning? Penny, he _defines_overprotective! Why d'you think he and Jeff get along so well?"

Penelope laughed softly. "You do have a point," she agreed.

Sighing, Jenny sat back in her seat, her gaze returning to the window. Well, she couldn't go back and change the past now. She'd just have to face the music - or, rather, her overly paranoid husband. But everything would work out her way in the end. After all, she was a woman - she had ways of making her husband take her side.

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Jeff grinned, sharing an amused look with his youngest son as Alan came to stand beside him.

"He does know that he's acting like a kid, right?" the teenager asked lightly.

"Probably not," Jeff replied, slinging an arm around Alan's shoulders. "But I'm not about stop him. I've been looking forward to this all day."

The object of their speculation stood a few metres away from them, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet energetically as he gazed up into the sky, towards where a fast-moving object was steadily approaching the island, dipping lower and lower as it began its descent towards the runway. Jeff frowned, suddenly realising that the doctor was standing directly in the centre of the runway - like a very happy sitting duck.

"Tom!" Jeff called, trying to get his friend's attention. "I'd move outta the way of I were you."

When Thomas didn't give any indication that he had heard the Tracy patriarch, Virgil and Gordon - who had been standing at the side of the runway with John, Fermat and Tin-Tin - jogged over to the doctor, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him back to a safe distance, chuckling in amusement as Thomas' gaze remained fixed on the flying car.

The assembled family members remained at the side of the runway as FAB 1 touched down, the shining pink exterior glinting in the light of the afternoon sun as the car moved towards them slowly. Time seemed to drag by endlessly for Thomas Palmar, who was - with a great deal of effort - resisting the urge to sprint onto the runway and open the car door before the vehicle had even stopped moving. It seemed like minutes before the Rolls finally came to a halt a few metres away from the group, the gentle rumble of the engine dying down, leaving the runway in relatively peaceful silence.

Then the driver's door opened, and Parker stepped out onto the tarmac, looking as formal as ever in his light grey suit, carefully adjusting his hat as he closed the door behind him with one hand.

"Hey, Parker," Jeff greeted, stepping out onto the runway and smiling at the family friend.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tracy," the manservant replied, returning the smile as he moved further down the car towards the passenger door. Reaching out, he made to open the door. However he stopped when, all of a sudden, the door on the opposite side of the car swung open. Suddenly, a brown-haired figure leaped out, spinning around to face the assembled welcoming comitee with a bright smile upon her face.

"Jen!" Thomas was sliding across the front bonnet of FAB 1 before the word had fully escaped his lips, oblivious to the disaproving frown that Parker was sending his way as the metalic cover squeaked under his weight.

Thomas' heart soared as he swooped his wife up in a tight embrace, spinning her around as she laughed gaily. His cheeks hurt from grinning so widely, but he didn't care. Right now, life was perfect. Jennifer returned the embrace around his neck, and Thomas couldn't wait a moment longer. Setting her down on her own two feet, he cupped her face tenderly and attacked her lips with a passionate, hungry kiss.

The intimate moment was interrupted by a chorus of wolf-whistles that came from the Tracy sons, and Thomas felt Jennifer laugh against his mouth.

Breaking away, the doctor smirked at the group, happiness overflowing. "Ah, shut up."

Glancing back towards his wife, he ran his eyes over her body, noting how well the jeans and fitted blouse complemented her curvy figure. Letting out a contented sigh, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, swooping her up into his arms and carrying her bridle-style towards the rest of the group.

"You," he murmured into her ear. "Are perfect."

"I know," she giggled back. "Now put me down, you silly lump."

Grinning, the doctor set his wife back on the ground again, watching as she began to greet the rest of their crazy 'family'. Turning towards the pink Rolls, he raised an eyebrow as a slim figure stepped out of the car, her high-heeled shoes tapping softly on the tarmac as she smiled her thanks at Parker. Then taking a step forward, she stopped, her lips forming what could only be described as an elegant grin.

"Hello boys," she greeted, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Fermat and the assembled Tracys. "Lady Penelope Creighton Ward, at your service."

Thomas let out an long moan. "Do you _always_ have to say that?"

"Of course," the British aristocrat replied lightly, before moving over towards Jeff and grasping the man's hands in her own, giving him a light peck on the cheek. Then she frowned slightly, regarding the Tracy patriarch critically. "Goodness, you look terrible."

Gordon let out a barely contained snort of amusement, and Thomas did his best to hide his grin as Jeff sent a disapproving frown in his direction.

"I'm fine, Penny," Jeff replied, returning his attention to the female secret agent and smiling warmly. "I'm just-"

"Going cold-turkey," Thomas interjected, unable to hide the smirk this time.

Penelope let out a soft laugh. "Ah, I take it Dr. Palmar has restricted your caffeine intake?"

Thomas pouted. "_Don't_ call me 'Dr. Palmar'," he grumbled.

"Tommy," Jennifer scolded jokingly, pulling away from the double-hug she'd been giving Alan and Gordon, placing her hands on her hips as she raised an eyebrow at her husband's behaviour. "That is no way to speak to a woman."

Thomas put his hand to his chest, feigning shock. "Baby, you are so right." He turned towards Penelope and cleared his throat. "Don't call me 'Dr. Palmar', your _Ladyship_."

This was too much for Gordon and Alan, who immediately collapsed against each other in hysterics, Alan clutching at his side in an attempt to keep from overstraining the still-healing muscles. The rest of the group weren't much better off, each of them trying in some way to hide their amusement.

Thomas grinned. _I rule._

His eyes flickered back over towards his wife, who was currently inspecting the half-healed cut on the back of the John's head, her arm outstretched towards the injury as her lips moved, indicating that she was speaking to the blond astronaut. But Thomas wasn't bothered about what she was currently saying - she could be speaking in Japanese for all he cared - but instead his attention was focused on his wife's outstretched arm. Or, more specifically, the bandage that was wrapped around the area between wrist and elbow.

Jenny stepped back, patting John on his uninjured arm soothingly. "Well, at least those brains of yours are still intact,"she commented, smiling fondly. "We wouldn't want you to-!"

She broke of with a surprised squeak as somebody suddenly spun her around. Thomas stood in front of her, concern radiating off him in waves as he reached out towards her, grabbing onto her wrist gently. The rest of the group turned to face the couple, eyebrows raised.

"Honey, what happened?" Thomas asked as he ran his fingers over the bandage.

Jenny let out a resigned sighed, tucking her fringe behind her ears. She had known this would be coming. _Well, he lasted longer than I thought he would. Almost two full minutes. I'm not sure whether I should be impressed or offended by that, to be honest. Ah well, time to face the music._

"I had a slight argument with a backup generator when the hospital had another power cut," she replied, submitting to the inspection dutifully, frowning at Jeff as he smirked at her in amusement. "I don't think it wanted me to leave, so it decided to set me on fire."

Thomas' eyes burned with something akin to panic, and she patted him on the arm soothingly. "It's okay, love. Only a minor burn."

"Minor?" Thomas questioned, fixing his wife with a suspicious gaze. "How minor?"

Jenny shot Penelope and Tin-Tin despairing glances, and the two females smiled back at her sympathetically from where they stood beside Fab 1, Penny's arm wrapped casually about the young teenager's shoulders in a friendly and almost protective manner. Jenny winked at them, before returning her attention to her uncharacteristically frumpled husband. Recalling his question, she shrugged dismissively, tugging away slightly in an attempt to remove her arm from his grasp.

"Tommy, dearest, it's fine. Don't fuss." She knew it was cruel to tease him, but hey - a married girl had to find amusement someplace.

"Jennifer Susan Palmar," Thomas warned, and the rest of the group made choked sounds as they tried to muffle their laughter.

Jenny rolled her eyes, slapping her husband's chest gently. "_Don't_ call me that."

"Jen, baby," Thomas amended. "How bad is it?"

The brown-haired woman glanced down, clearing her throat. "Second degree," she mumbled.

"And _when_ were you planning on telling me about this?" Thomas asked, a note of chastisement in his voice as he frowned at her.

Jenny shrugged. "When you asked, which you did, so now I have."

Thomas looked vaguely confused. Deciding that it was another argument she had successfully won, Jenny turned to look at the group, running her eyes over the tall (and short) figures before her. Then she frowned suddenly.

"Hey, where's Scott?" she asked, looking towards Jeff. The Tracy patriarch glanced about, seeming equally as surprised at his eldest's absence, before giving her a '_who knows?'_ shrug.

"Andy and Scott went down to the beach about an hour ago," John, ever the observant one, stated casually. "They said they'd try and be back for your arrival, but they must've lost track of time. I can call them if you like."

Jenny smiled, shaking her head. "No, no, let them have some time together. They're no doubt discussing planes or cars or something of similar unimportance."

"Unimportance?" Jeff repeated, looking mildly offended. "C'mon, Jenny, that was a little harsh."

The brown-haired woman shrugged. "Perhaps," she agreed. "But anyway, enough about that. I need tea."

"Can't I look at your arm first?" Thomas asked, with an almost-whine lacing his voice.

"You should already know the answer to that," Penelope interjected, beginning to walk away arm-in-arm with Tin-Tin. "Tea _always_ comes first, dear."

Jenny grinned up at her husband. "She's right, you know."

Thomas still looked a little hurt. "You should've told me," he complained softly.

Sighing, Jenny reached up to give him a quick peck on the cheek, sliding her hand down his arm and interlocking their fingers together. Fluttering her eyelids, she tilted her head to the side and smiled hopefully.

"Forgive me?"

Thomas groaned, looking up towards the sky. "Not the eyes," he begged. "Anything but the eyes."

"Pleeease?" Jenny pressed, tugging on his hand to get him moving.

"Gah, I _suppose_ I'll have to," the male doctor sighed, stumbling along behind her dramatically. "_This_ time.

Jeff watched them go, his sons laughing as they followed at a slight distance, giving the couple a little privacy. He was glad that Thomas had his wife back again. Although the doctor kept it hidden well, Jeff knew that his old friend missed her dearly when she was away in Dhaka - sometimes for periods of over eight weeks.

Jeff could understand how Thomas felt. Before Virgil had been born, he had worked 40-day rotations aboard the station with the NASA frontier space project. And, although he would always half a month off in between his rotations, it had still been hard to be away from his family for so long. Especially when John and Scott had been newborn babies. He would come back after a rotation to discover that they had learned how to say 'Mamma' - or, even worse, they had discovered the talent of walking on their own. Sure, he had always used the vid-comm to communicate back to earth at least once a day, but it hadn't been the same.

"Ya need some help back there, old man?" Gordon yelled, from where he and his brothers stood a good distance down the runway, and Jeff could hear the smirk in his voice. He raised an eyebrow. _Old man, eh?_

"You're grounded!" the Tracy patriarch called in playful retaliation, grinning as he heard John and Virgil's laughter floating back towards him.

Nodding in satisfaction, Jeff began walking in the direction of his sons. _Yup. I've still got it._

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Andrew Myers sat on a small boulder, watching his best friend as the tall brown-haired male paced back and forth in front of him. Considering the colourful array of expletives coming out of the - usually - emotionally stable Tracy, Andy was quite impressed with himself for having been able to keep his face neutral. The last thing he wanted to do right now was antagonise the ex-Air Force pilot. Scott was already mad enough.

"I mean how could I have been to stupid?!" the younger man was yelling. "I just let Dad and the kids run off to the bank, without backup, without weapons, without outside help of any kind! What the hell was I _thinking_?! Dammit, Andy, Alan nearly _died_! I just can't believe we came to close to - to - ugh!"

Andy winced as Scott kicked one of the boulders, hard. As expected, the eldest Tracy then let out a pained yelp, followed by a stream of curses, hopping up and down on one foot in a way that, had the situation been less serious, would have been highly comical.

"Scott-" he began, consolingly, thinking that his friend had reached the end of his rant. He was wrong.

"The Hood's gonna pay for this," Scott growled, beginning his frantic pacing again, his shoes scuffing up wet sand every time he turned to face the other way. "Somehow, I'm gonna make him pay. Nobody does this to my family and gets away with it, d'you hear me?!"

Andy held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, okay, I hear you," he soothed, standing up and approaching the fellow pilot. Scott was practically shaking with anger, the fury smouldering in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he continued to pace.

"Scott, sit down," he instructed softly.

"No, I _won't_ frigging sit down!" Scott spat back, kicking at another rock. "I wanna beat that frigging monster into a pulp, that's what I wanna do!"

Andy grabbed Scott by the shoulder and spun him around, before taking a step back and adopting a firm stance, feet shoulder-width apart with muscles poised and ready. Scott frowned at him and Andy held up both hands, signalling a '_give it to me'_ message and spreading his arms.

"Hit me."

Scott blinked, the fire immediately dying from his eyes. "What?"

"Hit me," Andy repeated. "Pretend I'm the Hood and beat the crap outta me."

Scott frowned, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna hit you, Andy."

"Ah c'mon, hit me!" the medic pressed, spreading his arms in an _'I'm open'_ gesture.

"Dammit, Andy, I'm _not_ gonna hit you!" Scott exclaimed.

Andy dropped his arms, his stance relaxing as he regarded his friend steadily. "Why not?"

"Because." Scott dropped down onto a boulder, his anger spent. Andy sat down beside him, leaning forwards with his elbows resting against his knees and his hands hanging limply between his legs.

"'_Because_' isn't an answer, bro," he smiled.

Scott gave him a sideways look, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly as his stiff posture sagged. Andy reached out and gave the younger man's shoulder a squeeze, feeling the tension flow out of the strong muscles like the retreat of a tide. Scott exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the sand as the gentle sounds of the ocean filled out the silence between them. For a long moment, neither man spoke, merely content to sit and contemplate their differing emotions.

"So," Andy finally said, breaking the silence. "How long has that little temper tantrum been brewing for?"

Scott smiled, almost apologetically. "Guess."

Andy nodded. "Ah. That long."

Sighing, Scott put his head in his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, man," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to blow up in your face like that."

"Dude, that _was _the whole point of coming out here," Andy sighed, clearly assuming that this had been the most obvious thing in the world. Scott shot him an incredulous look and he grinned, shrugging. "What? I had to get you away from the family so that you could let it all out. Better you yelling at me than losing it in front one of the guys - or, even worse, your Dad."

Scott grimaced at the thought. "You have a point," he agreed, his voice lined with guilt. "But still, you should've stopped me before I got so riled up."

"Why?" Andy asked, nudging at a dead crab with the toe of his boot in mild curiosity. "You needed to throw that tantrum, Scooter."

"Stop calling it that," Scott grumbled, good-naturedly.

Another short silence fell between them, before Andy let out a long sigh, turning to face the eldest Tracy son with a calm and serious expression upon his face. Scott remained unmoving, his gaze fixed on the sand beneath his feet as he stared down at his sneakers glumly. Andy inhaled deeply, readying himself for the task ahead.

"Alright, Scott. Peptalk time," he stated.

Scott put his head in his hands again. "Oh God, anything but this."

Andy pretended that he hadn't heard him and continued, "Look, I know you wanna crush this 'Hood' guy and, quite frankly, so do I. But the bottom line is - you can't, so get over it. Hell, Scotty, that outburst was the anger that had accumulated after eight days. What d'you think it's gonna be like if you keep this up for weeks, months, even years? You can't do that to yourself. I'm not gonna let you."

Scott smiled, despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Oh yeah?" he challenged playfully. "How you gonna stop me?"

"I'm your big brother," Andy grinned, slinging his arm about Scott's neck and giving the twenty-five-year-old a painful noogie. "I have my methods."

"Okay, okay!" Scott laughed, trying to sound affronted as he pushed his friend away. "I get the message."

Andy smiled, releasing his hold and sitting back again. Then he gazed at Scott seriously. "I mean what I said, you know," he murmured. "You shouldn't be thinking about revenge, justice, getting even - all that jazz. The Hood's gone, he's taken care of and he's never gonna bug your family again. Seriously, you know that prison facility he's been sent to? That ain't a normal security centre. Only the worst of the worst go there - and by that I mean the traitors and government spies who've threatened whole countries at some point. He's not getting out of there unless he suddenly learns the art of translocation. And even if he does, they'll no doubt be able to stop him somehow. He might as well be dead, Scotty, because that's how he is to the world from now on."

Scott sighed, feeling a little of the anger within his heart seep away. He wasn't ready to forgive the Hood - dammit, he wasn't ever going to be able to do that with the ease that Alan had done in the Bank of London - but he no longer felt the desire within every fibre of his being to kill the psychopath who had tried to destroy his family. Sure, give him a gun and put the Hood against a wall in front of him, and he'd probably have a hard time keeping his finger off the trigger - but his happiness wasn't going to be marred by the Hood's existence.

_Andy's right. The bastard's locked away for life, without trial and without mercy. He's never coming out. He tried to ruin our lives by destroying my family, but he failed. I'm certainly not gonna let him destroy me from behind bars. Huh, I hope the prison food sucks._

"That's more like it!" Andy grinned, watching the genuine smile that broke out on Scott's face. "Nice to have you back with us, Chuckles. So, you're gonna try and forget about his existence, right? No more temper tantrums? A guy can't live his life with that kinda anger, little dude. After all: '_fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate....leads to suffering'."_

Scott shook his head, massaging his temples as he let out a long-suffering groan. "You did _not_ just quote Star Wars."

Andy grinned. "Suck it up, Flyboy."

"Dude, you totally did a 'Gordon' just then," the Tracy son complained, but he was smiling. "D'you realise how bad that is?"

Andy chuckled, leaning back with his hand pressed against the cool surface of the rock as he gazed up at the bright blue sky, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty air and smiling in content. A short silence fell between the two pilots for a third time, more comfortable and relaxed than the previous two had been.

Scott rubbed a hand over his face, glancing towards his 'older brother' once again as another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"That was a trick, right?" he questioned, interrupting the silence again. "The whole 'hit me' thing? You've done it before, I remember. That time when Mike and Greg had that major dispute over baseball teams back in our first summer at the base together."

Andy groaned, shaking his head. "Man, that argument got so outta hand."

Scott grinned. "We were on a three-day shore leave, away from the base, and they'd both had a few too many beers. But who could blame them? Anyway, the whole 'hit me' thing worked that time, too. They were best buddies five minutes later."

Andy pouted, rubbing his chin. "I wasn't actually _expecting_ them to hit me."

"Well, it diffused the situation," Scott reasoned lightly, elbowing the older man in the side playfully.

"Yeah, it nearly broke my jaw, too," he grumbled. Scott laughed and Andy stretched his arms out to the side, standing up and looking back towards the path to the house. "So," he sighed. "You wanna head back? We're actually running late, ya know. That mutant pink car arrived a while back, but you were yelling too loud to notice."

Scott grinned sheepishly, jumping to his feet. "Sorry."

"Ah, don't sweat it," Andy replied casually, beginning to walk back up the beach. Then he paused, looking thoughtful, and glanced sideways towards his best friend.

Scott frowned. He'd seen that expression before. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Race ya!" the older man cried, and was off across the sand in the blink of an eye.

Scott stared after him, momentarily stunned, before a grin began to spread across his face. Why not? Sure, they were technically supposed to be adults. And sure, Andy was almost old enough to be Alan's father. But who cared about that?

Right now, Scott had a race to win.

* * *

**_There ya go folks! Next chapter is gonna be the last, and it's the party scene that I referred to briefly in my previous story - 'When The Music Fades'. It'll have a few similaritues to the movie, but not all that many. For starters, Fermat's gonna be able to swim already. Having lived with the Tracy family for over six years (at least in my universe) I found it highly unlikely that Gordon wouldn't have forced him into the water at some point._**

**_Well, I'm waffling again. Do that a lot. Sorry._**

**_Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Everybody REVIEW please and make me a happy bunny! The next, and last, installment of this story will be posted some time later this week. Maybe Friday, we'll have to see._**

**_Toodles! xoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


	9. Chapter 9: Taking Flight

**_I live!_**

**_*collapses onto laptop dramatically* _**

**_Sorry for the wait, guys. College, revision, dance rehearsals and general 'I-need-to-find-the-time-to-breathe-ness' means that I've been pretty busy this week. So yes, I'm a little behind schedule. Sorry. But grades do matter more than hobbies, ya know? And besides, I'm only a couple of days late. You'll live. *grins*_**

**_Big thanks to all my reviewers! Here's a nice long chapter for you (not that my chapters are EVER short, of course), so grab yourself a nice mug of tea (or a suitable substitute if that doesn't appeal to you) and enjoy._**

* * *

Alan exhaled a long sigh out through his nose, chewing on the end of his pen thoughtfully. Leaning his back against the balcony railings, he adjusted the position of the text book that lay open against his bent knees. The sun reflected off the white pages, the bright glare hurting his eyes, so he scooted over to the left a little, moving closer to the shade on the far side of his balcony so that the scorching afternoon sun no longer fell across his book. Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up his pad of lined paper, took the pen out of his mouth and continued writing.

Turning the page with one hand, he narrowed his eyes in determination as his pen flowed fluidly across the lined paper.

_Miss Garret said it had to be over two thousand words, and that's what she's gonna get. Besides, this isn't too hard. Another half a page and I'll be done. Then I can go and see what the guys are up to. Gordon's not in the pool, so there must be something interesting going on inside the house. Maybe Fermat's there too? Nah, he's probably with his dad. He said something about working on some new variable resisters to replace Thunderbird 5's current modulators - whatever that means - so I guess he and Brains are probably tinkering with some kinda invention or other. _

Brains had returned from his repair mission only the previous evening, after spending eleven days working with the NASA repair crews to fix the extensive structural damage that Thunderbird 5 had sustained. Now that the station was once again intact, the scientist had returned home for a few weeks to plan out the next course of action. The intricate circuitry on-board the damaged Thunderbird would need to be rewired, and much of the internal paneling replaced, before the station would be operational once again. According to Brains, the repair job could take up to three months - maybe even longer - to complete.

But, Alan mused, that wasn't neccessarily a bad thing. It meant that John could spend more time on the island with the rest of the family, giving him a chance to fully recovery from the damage - both physical _and _mental - that he had sustained during his ordeal aboard the station. And, since Brains had channeled all incoming frequencies to the mainframe communications centre at NASA headquarters, International Rescue could continue operating without Thunderbird 5 for as long as was necessary. If a call came in, NASA would simply relay the message to Tracy Island, and the Thunderbirds would be ready to take off. It was a good thing that both Thomas and his father had friends in high places.

"Hey, Sprout!"

Looking up from his text book, Alan smiled brightly. "Hey, Virge."

The medic came to crouch down next to him. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, leaning forwards so that he could read what Alan had been in the process of writing.

"It's just a dumb report I had to do," Alan replied, finishing off his sentence and closing the text book over the pad. "I'm done now anyway."

"Good." Virgil grinned, standing to his feet and jerking his head towards the balcony doors. "C'mon."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "C'mon where?"

"I wanna give you one last check-up," the older Tracy stated. "I might not get another chance before you go back to school tomorrow."

Alan groaned, standing to his feet. "Virge, I'm _fine._"

"Good," Virgil remarked cheerfully. "Then this won't take long, will it? C'mon, I won't even drag you down to the infirmary this time. We can do it in your room."

Reluctantly, Alan stepped through the double bay windows and into his bedroom, letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine, if you insist."

"I do," Virgil confirmed, giving his brother a playful shove. "Sit down on the bed and take your shirt off."

Alan rolled his eyes, but complied all the same. "Yes, _sir_."

Virgil grinned at the comment, slapping Alan upside the head gently. The younger Tracy gave a mumbled "ow" merely out of reflex, shooting his older brother a jokingly moody glare as he reached up to unbutton his shirt. Sliding his arms out of the sleeves, he set the garment down on his pillow and let out a sigh.

"Now what?"

Virgil waved a hand towards him. "Sit back a bit."

Alan complied, pushing himself backwards along the mattress until his shoulders touched the wall. As they did, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, jerking away suddenly. Virgil looked up sharply from where he had been skimming through the notes on his electronic data-pad, concern and worry burning in his eyes.

"What? What is it?"

"The wall's cold," Alan replied pathetically, laughing inwardly at his brother's overprotective nature.

Virgil frowned at him as the younger Tracy's face broke into a grin. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, the medic punched the teenager's knee. "Dude, that's not even funny. I thought something was wrong."

Alan tried to look apologetic, but failed miserably. Smirking, he shrugged. "Sorry, doc."

Shaking his head, Virgil set the data-pad down beside him and reached out to run his fingers over the faded yellowy-brown bruises that lined Alan's right side. The younger Tracy sucked in another sharp breath, shying away from Virgil's touch.

"Whoa, cold hands!" he protested.

Virgil grinned, leaning over further so that he could continue with his examination. "Don't worry, kiddo," he replied warmly. "I'll be done in a sec."

Alan squirmed, letting out a pathetic groan. "Du-ude!" he whined. "This is torture!"

Virgil laughed. "Glad to hear it. Now quit moving."

"You have a _really _lousy bedside manner, d'you know that?" the blond teenager complained, gritting his teeth and jerking away sharply as Virgil's fingers skimmed over a particularly ticklish spot.

Taking pity on his younger brother, Virgil withdrew his hands and stood to his feet, scooping up his data-pad and making a few notes. Tucking the device into the pocket of his shorts, he glanced back down at Alan and sighed.

"Stand up a sec." He waited until his brother was upright, before pointing down at he ground. "Touch your toes."

Alan blinked. "What?"

"Your toes," Virgil repeated, smiling in amusement. "Most commonly found at the end of your feet."

Alan mumbled something under his breath - something that Virgil pointedly ignored - reaching down to touch the tips of his sneakers. He stayed there for a few seconds, staring at the floor and musing over whether perhaps Virgil was just trying to make him look stupid. He was about to voice his suspicions when he heard his brother's voice again.

"Does anything hurt?"

Alan frowned thoughtfully. "Um....not really. Is it supposed to?"

"No, no, that's a good thing." Virgil sounded amused. "Okay, you can stand up again." The moment Alan had done so, the medic pointed a finger towards the ceiling. "Reach up as high as you can."

Alan sighed deeply, raising his arms. "This is like the friggin' Hokey-Pokey."

"How do you feel now?" Virgil asked, ignoring the comment and looking at his brother critically.

Alan frowned. "I feel stupid."

"Apart from that."

Sighing, Alan dropped his arms and rolled his eyes again. "Virge, I'm _fine_. It only hurts after I've been moving about for a long while or - I dunno - if I try and lift something that's too heavy, maybe. And even then it's only a little twinge."

Virgil nodded, taking out his data-pad and smiling. "Okay, okay, I get the message," he chuckled. "You're fine. Congrats, Sprout, you've got a clean bill of health. I've already gotten Tom to sign the appropriate forms so that you can skip gym and track over the next couple of weeks, but after that you should be okay." Pointing towards the bed, he began to walk towards the door. "Put your shirt back on. I need you to come help me catch John so that I can give him his physical."

Alan grinned, buttoning up his shirt and raising an amused eyebrow. _John hates physicals as much as I do. He's not gonna come quietly. Huh. This is gonna be interesting._

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Scott took a large gulp of coffee, frowning as he studied the set of cards in his hand. Setting his mug down on the table, he leaned back in his chair and 'hmmd' thoughtfully. Beside him, Thomas Palmar let out a heavy sigh, swirling his lemonade around in his glass.

"C'mon, Scotty, hurry it up," the older man groaned. "I'm getting old here."

On the other side of the table, Andy and Gordon exchanged amused glances, lowering their cards simultaneously and raising questioning eyebrows.

"_Getting_ old?" Gordon repeated, smirking. "Dude, it's a little late for that."

Thomas took a swig of his drink, pointedly ignoring the implied comment as he nudged Scott with his elbow. With a loud sigh, Scott turned to face Gordon, lowering his cards so that he could glance over at his younger sibling.

"Gordo, got any....threes?" he asked.

As Gordon handed over one of his cards, he shot another grin in Thomas' direction. "If it's any consolation, old man," he continued sweetly, "You look at least a couple o' hundred years younger than Dad." As Thomas looked up at him, he pressed, "So, how'd ya do it?"

"Do what?" the older man inquired, a slight frown of confusion tugging at his brow.

Gordon's eyes danced with laughter. "Stay lookin' so young?"

Thomas shrugged, glancing down at his own cards. "I moisturise."

Scott, who had been in the process of taking another gulp of coffee, ended up inhaling the hot beverage instead. Setting his mug down on the table with a loud _'thunk'_, he covered his mouth as he began to cough mightily, leaning forwards in his chair in an attempt to aid his breathing.

"I see what you mean about coffee, Tom," Gordon intoned. "That stuff's deadly."

Thomas grinned, thumping Scott between the shoulder blades as the younger man continued to cough. After several seconds, when the hacking had yet to subside, the doctor raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Geez, Scotty, how much went in there?" he asked, noticing that the eldest Tracy son was beginning to go red in the face. At last, Scott managed to suck in a ragged breath, wiping the moisture from his watering eyes and collapsing back in his chair.

"Whew!" he sighed, giving another, smaller cough. "Well....that was fun."

Andy looked at his friend critically. "Fun?" he repeated. Shaking his head, he looked down at his cards. "Dude, you really need to get out more."

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but paused as he spotted movement in the doorway. A moment later, John strolled - or was it _skipped?_- into the room cheerfully, grinning in a very un-John like fashion as he walked up to the dining table and plopped down into a chair beside Gordon.

"Yo," he remarked breezily.

Gordon gave him a funny look, before shaking his head and returning his attention to his cards. Scott frowned, tilting his head to the side. There was something...._different_ about John's appearance. Something that wasn't quite right.

Feeling Scott's eyes on him, John looked up at his older brother, his smile widening into a full-out grin as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. It was then that Scott realised exactly what was missing. The sling on John's right arm - the arm which had sustained a hairline fracture during the initial explosion on-board Thunderbird 5 - had been used to hold the injured limb securely for almost two weeks in order to give the bone a chance to heal properly. But now the sling was gone, much to John's apparent relief, and the younger Tracy was free of the annoying restraint.

Being right-handed, Scott knew that his brother had found it difficult to do anything useful over his recovery period. The family had made use of his quick-thinking mind, of course, but John had been frustrated to find that he was unable to assist in any of the repairs due to the restrictions that his injury caused him.

"Hey," Andy said suddenly, a slight frown tugging at his features. "Did Virgil give you a physical without me?"

"And without _me_?" Thomas added, sounding equally as disappointed.

There came the sound of amused laughter from the doorway, and Scott looked up to see Virgil and Alan standing in the corridor outside the room, the older Tracy's arm slung around the shoulders of the shorter boy.

"Sorry, guys," Virgil apologised, dropping his arm and stepping into the room. Walking up behind John's chair, he grinned, clapping his older brother on the shoulder. "My infirmary, my patients, my job."

Andy frowned. "But_ I'm _the older, more mature, better looking doctor," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah right. I'm three times better than either of you will ever be," Thomas informed the other doctors smugly. "So technically it's _my_ infirmary. Plus _I_ was the one who designed it all those years ago - over ten years ago, on fact - when you were still playing with plastic stethoscopes-"

"He still plays with plastic stethoscopes," Gordon mumbled.

"-which means that _I_ have the prior claim over all medical facilities on the island," Thomas concluded calmly, as if there had been no interruption.

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. "Bite me."

Thomas grimaced. "No thanks."

Alan, who had stepped up to Scott's side, leaned against the table and looked at his eldest brother questioningly as the three doctors continued to bicker amongst themselves. When Scott looked up at him, he raised an eyebrow.

"What are they arguing about?"

Scott grinned, shrugging. "It's a mother-hen thing, Sprout," he replied, sharing an amused look with John as he spoke. "Put three doctors on an island together with only two patients - especially when they're forced to co-exist in close quarters with a single medical facility - and they're bound to ruffle each other's feathers occasionally."

Andy, drawn out of his argument with Thomas over who was better looking, shot his best friend an incredulous look. "You're one to talk, Scott," he chuckled. "When put to vote, I think you'd win hands down in the 'mother-hen of the year' competition."

Scott shrugged, pulling out the chair beside him and tugging Alan into it. "Whatever. C'mon, let's deal again."

As Andy scooped up the cards and began to shuffle them expertly, Scott saw Alan glance down at his watch out of the corner of his eye. Noticing the slight frown on the boy's brow, he nudged Alan with his elbow to make him look up.

"You waiting for somebody?" he teased lightly. Alan grinned, leaning forwards and resting his crossed arms on the edge of the table.

"I'm just wandering why Tin-Tin's already getting ready for the party," he commented. "It's not even three yet. Virge and I met her on our way down here, and she said she was going up to Penny's room to get changed."

Thomas laughed, pushing his empty glass to the side and picking up his new hand of cards. "Jenny's up there, too," he commented, shooting Alan an amused glance. "Kiddo, one of the things I've learned during my married life - other than how to brew a 'suitable' cup of tea, of course - is that women take a heck of a long time to get ready for special occasions like this. But hey, who cares? The end result is always well worth the long wait."

Alan raised an eyebrow again. "So....they're gonna take _three hours_ to get changed?" he remarked, almost to himself. "Um...why?"

The six males exchanged silent glances, before shaking their heads dismissively and turning their attention back to the cards in front of them. They knew, after all, that trying to comprehend a woman's mind was utterly pointless.

"John, got any fours?"

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Tin-Tin turned sideways, smiling at her reflection in the full-length mirror as she faced the front again, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up. The floral skirt and matching blouse wouldn't normally have appealed to her tastes - she hadn't worn a skirt since she was nine years old - but she had to admit, she was pleased with the outfit that Jennifer Palmar had brought back for her from Peru. The older woman was right; the colour really did suit her skin tone.

"Thanks, Jen," she stated, holding her arms out to the side and spinning around, smiling at the way her skirt swished about her legs. "I love it!"

Jenny glanced up from where she had been styling Penelope's hair. "Thought so," she said smugly. Tapping Penelope on the shoulder, she continued, "See, Penny - I told you Tin-Tin had a great pair of pins. Seriously, honey," she smiled at the teenager warmly, "You're gonna have the college boys lining up to date you with legs like those."

Tin-Tin laughed, moving away from the mirror and taking a seat on the end of the pink double bed, reaching down to pick up the bag of hair accessories that she'd taken from her own bedroom. Sifting through them, she glanced up and caught Penelope looking at her, the older woman's eyes dancing merrily.

"Come to think of it," the English aristocrat began, looking away again casually. "I suspect that a certain blond-haired Tracy will be most grateful that we persuaded you into wearing this particular outfit this evening."

"Who, John?" Jenny frowned slightly, setting down the hairspray and stepping back to admire the other woman's reflection in the mirror above the dressing table.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "No, dear. Deduct eight years and think smaller."

"I'm only joking, Penny," the brown-haired woman chuckled, smoothing down her dress carefully. "So Tin-Tin," she began, leaning against the closet beside her and raising an eyebrow, rubbing her hand absently over the bandage on her forearm. "What do you think of Alan?"

Tin-Tin felt a hot blush creep up into her cheeks, and Jenny's face broke into a grin. "Ha, I knew it!" The older woman moved swiftly over to the bedside and took a seat next to her, an almost teenage excitement shining in her eyes. "Okay, spill. You like him, right?"

Glancing down at her lap shyly, Tin-Tin shrugged. "I - I guess....kinda."

"Now, now," Penelope smiled, turning gracefully around on her chair so that she sat facing the other two women. "There are no secrets between friends."

"It was the eyes that first got your attention, right?" Jenny pressed. "That's what did it for me when I met Tommy. Well - that and the fact that he was the only senior doctor with a good sense of humour. I guess the two went together, really. Every time he laughed, I lost myself in those eyes."

Tin-Tin smiled at the dreamy look on Jenny's face. Then, seeing an opportunity to shift the focus of the conversation completely off her own little crush on Alan, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and inquired, "So...when did he first ask you out?"

Jenny sighed happily. "Almost a year ago now. Right after I threw coffee all over his shirt."

Tin-Tin's mouth fell open. "You threw _coffee_ at him?"

"Cold coffee," Jenny elaborated, shrugging slightly as she accepted a necklace off Penelope, smiling at the beautiful emerald stone attached to the long, silver chain. "I'd fallen asleep on the sofa in his office after finishing his paperwork for him _again _- and at the end of my double shift, too! Anyway, he came happily skipping into the room and woke me up by singing _'Oh What A Beautiful Morning'_- and yes, Tommy might be a multi-talented guy, but singing just isn't one of his gifts - so I sat up, grabbed the nearest item to me and threw it at him."

"And that item was a cup of coffee?" Penelope concluded, sounding highly amused as she glanced up from where she had been examining the rows of shoes that lined the shelves in her closet.

"It was one of those take-out cups from the cafe across the road," the older woman nodded, "And as I said, it was cold - so no harm done. Well....I suppose his shirt had seen better days. But still, he deserved it. And besides, he didn't seem the least bit put out. He just flashed me one of those dazzling smiles that made me go weak at the knees - thank God I was already sitting down, who knows what would've happened otherwise."

"And then?" Penelope prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Jenny shrugged, reaching back to fasten the clasp on the necklace. "Then he asked if he could buy me breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, I'd already decided that he was the guy I'd been waiting for." Her face softened again as she dropped her hands down onto her lap. "And I guess I was right. We were engaged before the month was out."

Penelope sighed happily and, for a moment, the two older women merely sat in dreamy silence together as Tin-Tin smiled and shook her head. Then the blond-haired agent seemed to snap out of her daze, reaching out to retrieve a pair of high-heeled shoes from the closet shelf.

"Try these on, dear," she instructed, handing the shoes to Tin-Tin. "They go perfectly with your outfit."

Tin-Tin smiled. "Thanks, Lady P."

"Please, call me Penny," Penelope said warmly, sitting down in the chair at the dressing table once again. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed softly and reached up towards her hair, patting her victory rolls. "There's something missing," she stated.

"Hang on," Tin-Tin said suddenly, reaching down to sift through her bag of hair accessories. After only a short moment, she pulled out a large exotic-looking silk flower. The petals were yellow and deep pink in colour, matching the tones on Penelope's dress, and the base of the flower was attached to a long hair clip.

Carefully sliding the accessory just above Penelope's ear, Tin-Tin clipped it to the hair securely before standing back to admire its effect.

"There." Tin-Tin smiled. "Perfect."

Penelope turned to look at herself in the mirror once again, another smile gracing her features as she raised her chin, turning her head to the side. After a long moment, she nodded in apparent satisfaction, turning to face her two companions.

"Ladies," she said, "I think we're ready."

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"Hey Scott, catch!"

Alan drew his arm back, throwing the football across to his eldest brother. Scott jumped up out of the water, catching it deftly and throwing it towards Virgil before his feet had even touched the bottom of the pool again. Virgil, caught unawares, gave a cry of protest as the football landed directly in front of him, splashing water into his eyes.

Alan smirked. "Nice catch."

Virgil frowned at him playfully, the corners of his mouth turning up as he threw the ball towards him. However, before Alan could even begin to react, a blur of copper flashed before his eyes as Gordon dove off the side of the pool, catching the ball effortlessly before landing in the water with a colossal '_splash'_. Alan's "whoa!" was lost in a miniature tidal wave that left him coughing and spluttering, blinking the water from his eyes.

A wet head emerged from the water in front of him, green eyes sparkling as a grin threatened to split his face in two.

"Sorry, Sprout," Gordon chuckled. "You want the ball back?"

Alan shook his head, deciding that he'd better take a break. His ribs were beginning to ache. "Nah, I'm good."

Turning around, Alan reached out towards the edge of the pool. Pushing himself up, he winced at the twinge in his side, rolling over so that he sat with his feet dangling in the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fermat and Virgil looking towards him in concern. Inwardly groaning, he tried to plaster a reassuring smile onto his face as the older worry-wart swam over to him.

"Hey," Virgil murmured, coming up to Alan's right hand side and putting a hand on his knee. "Your ribs okay?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah, they're fine. I just don't wanna overdo it."

"Probably a good idea," the older Tracy agreed, swiping his wet fringe away from his eyes. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll just watch," Alan replied, pressing his palms against the pool decking and leaning back. "And laugh whenever one of you drops the ball. That's what annoying younger brothers are supposed to do, right?"

Virgil raised a challenging eyebrow. "You'd better not laugh at me, squirt."

Alan grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it, Virge."

"Hey Mozart!" Gordon yelled from the other side of the pool. "You playing or not?"

Virgil grinned, squeezing Alan's knee before pushing himself away from the side of the pool, swimming back to his position. The game began again and Alan smiled as he glanced about, watching his brothers splash each other playfully. Despite being 'adults', they really hadn't changed much over the years. Especially Andy. The young doctor was now commentating from his his position on a giant, pink blow-up float in the centre of the pool.

"What the heck was that?" the brown-haired man demanded, as Scott missed John's pass, nearly flattening Fermat in the process as he fell on top of him. "C'mon, Scooter, let me see some of that Flyboy hand-eye coordination!"

Scott frowned at him, picking up the football and throwing it effortlessly over towards Gordon. "Shut it, Mandy."

"Gordon, let's not sit around and do nothing!" Andy continued, oblivious to the evil glint in the redhead's eyes. "You hafta _be_ the ball!"

As Gordon tossed the ball over to Fermat, the aquanaut skimmed his arm across the surface of the water quickly, splashing Andy's face as the doctor drifted closer to him on his pink blow-up float.

"Bleugh, Gordon!" Andy protested. "You can't attack the commentator, it's not professional!"

Gordon smirked. "Sorry, Mandy."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Geez, you're such a Blunderbird."

Fermat dropped the ball into a water with a soft 'splash', the sound filling the sudden silence that fell over the pool area. Scott's expression was hard, but his eyes were gleaming cunningly as he glanced towards his brothers. A short pause dragged slowly by, before five voices called out:

"Get him!"

"Oh, I'll get 'im!"

"Blunderbird?!"

"That's it!"

"You asked for it!"

In a coordinated attack, Fermat and the four Tracy sons leaped towards the float, laughing as Andy kicked manically in an attempt to get away - but to no avail. The doctor was successfully dragged off the float and into the water, dunked under by five merciless attackers. At the side of the pool, Alan laughed loudly, clutching at his side as his eyes watered. Oh yes, life was good.

Hearing laughter behind him, Alan glanced over his shoulder towards the barbecue pit. Kyrano, Thomas, Brains and Parker were helping Jeff with the barbecue, grins on their faces as they glanced over at the splashing figures in the pool. Jeff's eyes locked onto Alan's, his face softening into an affectionate smile. Then a slight frown tugged at his brow as he saw that Alan was no longer in the pool with the others, and he reached over to touch Thomas' shoulder, indicating for the doctor to look after the steaks for a moment. When Thomas complied, he wiped his hands on a towel and stepped out onto the pool decking, walking slowly over to where Alan sat.

Crouching down beside his youngest son, the Tracy patriarch put a hand on the teenager's shoulder. "You alright?"

Nodding, Alan smiled and replied, "Yeah, never better. Just thought I'd take a break, that's all. My side was getting a little sore"

Jeff squeezed the shoulder gently, grateful that Alan was now so much more at ease when it came to talking about his injury. "You need anything?" he asked softly. "Tom can grab you some meds if you like?"

Alan shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. It was just a muscle twinge. It's gone now."

"Okay," Jeff smiled, standing to his feet again. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighed. "I'd better get back to the barbecue before Tom burns my steaks. You know what he's like when it comes to cooking."

"Yeah," Alan grinned. "He's even worse than Scott!"

"Hey!

"I heard that!"

Jeff laughed as his eldest son and closest friend protested Alan's comment in unison. Ruffling Alan's hair, he headed back over to the barbecue pit, leaving his youngest to turn his attention back to the six figures in the pool. After watching his extended 'family' wrestle with each other in the water for a few minutes, Alan began to get uncomfortable. Deciding that stretching his legs would help to ease his stiffness, he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his shirt from a nearby sun-lounger, sliding his arms into the short sleeves and reaching down to do up a few of the buttons.

Smiling to himself, Alan headed away from the poolside and walked across to the long table beside the steps that lead up to the house. Onaha had set out a variety of finger-foods and salad dishes to accompany the burgers, steaks and hot-dogs from the barbecue - and the pleasant aroma was making Alan's stomach growl. Grabbing a glass and pouring himself some lemonade, Alan glanced down at his watch, raising an eyebrow as he noticed how swiftly the time had flown by that afternoon. Indeed, it wasn't technically the afternoon anymore. It was currently two minutes past six, which meant that the party had officially 'started'. But where had Tin-Tin, Jenny and Lady Penelope run off to? They couldn't possibly still be changing, could they? Perhaps they were - what had Andy called it again? Oh yes - 'fashionably late'.

As his stomach growled again, Alan frowned to himself. _Well I hope they get here soon, 'cause I'm starved._

"Hey Alan."

Hearing a familiar female voice behind him, Alan turned away from the table of food to face the new arrival. The teasing '_and it's about time too'_ died on his lips as he ran his eyes over the slender figure, feeling something odd flutter in his chest.

"Um...Tin-Tin," he stammered. "You...um...y-you look-"

"Weird, I know," Tin-Tin smiled, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear out of habit as she glanced down at her feet shyly.

"No, no, you look amazing," Alan stated hurriedly, hoping to correct his blunder. Then, realising what he'd just said, he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Um...I mean, ya know, it looks quite nice - the outfit, I mean - on you - and....you know, I - I think your Mom's calling me."

Rushing off up the steps, leaving Tin-Tin standing beside the table with a slightly flushed and bemused expression upon her face, Alan fled swiftly into the house and out of sight, hoping against hope that he hadn't actually just said that. Pinching himself in the hope that it was all a dream, he let out a mortified groan when he failed to wake up.

"Alan," he moaned, leaning his head back against the wall of the corridor. "Your life is over."

Outside by the pool, Alan's speedy exit did not gone unnoticed. Dropping his towel onto a nearby sun-lounger, Scott grinned as he watched Alan make a sudden dash up the steps towards the house, disappearing through the screen doors and out of sight. Hearing soft chuckling beside him, he turned his head to see John and Andy climbing out of the pool, wearing identical grins.

"What?" Scott asked, grabbing his shirt.

John shook his head, massaging the blue support strip around his upper arm as his eyes sparkled. Grabbing his towel, he began to dry himself off, smiling as his eyes wandered over to the spot where his younger brother had previously stood.

"I think Alan's finally realised that Tin-Tin's a girl," he stated.

Andy snorted in amusement. "Took him long enough."

Virgil, having climbed out of the pool to see what his older brothers were talking about, unhooked his towel from the back of a deck chair and slung it about his shoulders, thumping Scott on the back to get his attention.

"What's the big secret?" he inquired, running a hand through his damp hair and rubbing the moisture off his face with one end of the towel. Scott smiled, briefly explaining the reason behind Alan's sudden disappearance and pointing towards where Tin-Tin was now pouring herself a drink.

Virgil grinned. "Shame I didn't film it. That would've been a keeper."

John looked at him meaningfully. "You'd better not be thinking about using this against him," he warned

"Don't sweat it, Johnny," Virgil chuckled. "His secret's safe with me."

"Thatta boy, Mozart." Andy ruffled Virgil's damp hair, grinning as the younger man pushed his hand away with an annoyed pout.

Scott glanced over his shoulder towards where Fermat and Gordon were trying to drown each other in the pool. "You don't think Gordon saw it, do you?" he murmured, frowning slightly. "'Cause the Sprout's life ain't gonna be worth living if he did. Gordon will never let him live it down."

Andy nodded in agreement, turning back towards the pool. "Yo, Fish-sticks!" he called. As Gordon looked up at him, dark copper hair dripping water down his face, Andy continued, "Have you seen Alan around?"

"Yeah, he's-" Gordon paused, looking towards the table and realising that his younger brother was no longer present. "Well he _was _over there. Dunno where he is now, though. He must've gone inside for something."

"Yeah, probably," Andy agreed, before turning back around and smirking at Scott as he buttoned up his shirt. "See that piece of acting right there? That, Scooter, is why _you_ will never be anywhere near as awesome as me. You might as well just give up trying, ya know."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the words of encouragement, Andy," he stated sarcastically. "You've really put my life into perspective."

Andy grinned. "Anytime, pal. Anytime."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Jeff leaned against the pillar beside the barbecue pit, watching his family as they chattered and laughed around him without a care in the world. The evening had cooled a little, the blue sky fading into a pastey orange colour as the sun began to set over the island. In the seats around the edge of the pool, his sons were talking animatedly with each other, clearly in the midst of debating something. Tin-Tin and Fermat sat on either side of Alan, all three teenager's laughing at a comment that one of the older Tracys had just made.

_Probably Gordon,_ Jeff mused. _That boy could entertain company for days on end without even breaking into a sweat._

Glancing down at his watch, Jeff sighed deeply and straightened up. It was time. Pushing himself away from the pillar, he nodded towards Brains and Kyrano, picking up a glass and a spoon from the nearby table and tapping the metal against the transparent object.

"Gather round, everyone, I have an announcement to make!"

At their father's statement, Scott and John looked at each other, smiles spreading slowly across their faces as they realised what was about to happen. Jumping to their feet, they grabbed Gordon and Virgil, tugging them across the pool decking and over to wher their father stood. Andy followed close behind, frowning in confusion as he raised an eyebrow at Scott's grinning face.

"What's going on?" he asked in a loud whisper, sensing the note of excitement in the air. Scott leaned across and murmured something into the doctor's ear, and a broad grin broke out across Andy's face. "Ah, I see."

Alan frowned to himself, walking over stand a few feet away from his father. Behind the Tracy patriarch, his four older brothers had lined up alongside Brains, Thomas an Andy, mock-serious expressions upon their faces. Gordon locked eyes with him and winked, his green eyes sparkling with some hidden secret as he clasped his hands behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart as he adopted the same stance as the other men. The Belegant parents - along with Penelope, Jenny and Parker - came to stand in front of the drinks table to Alan's left, facing Jeff as the brown-haired man cleared his throat.

"Tonight is a special night," he began, looking around at his assembled family, his eyes lingering on his sons as he spoke. "And there was a time when I didn't think that any of us would live to see it. But we did. And we're all here together - because of three very special people."

Turning to look at the three teenagers, he smiled. "Fermat, Tin-Tin, Alan." They took a step towards him as he beckoned them closer, looking thoroughly confused and more than a little embarrassed as they glanced at each other questioningly. "Against all odds, you three worked together to save our family," Jeff continued. "Furthermore, you put your own lives at risk in order to save complete strangers. What you did took immense bravery and courage. You far outshone the rest of us with your determination to do what you knew was right."

Pausing, he put a hand on Alan and Fermat's shoulders, smiling at Tin-Tin, who stood between the two boys. "I'm proud of you," he stated. "All three of you."

Taking a step back, he slipped his hand into his pocket. "What happened last week allowed me to realise two important things." Withdrawing his hand, he smiled again. "The world needs the Thunderbirds - and the Thunderbirds need you."

Alan felt his mouth drop open as his father stepped forwards again, reaching out to attach an International Rescue pin to Fermat's shirt.

"Mr. Tracy!" Fermat breathed, his eyes going wide as he stared down at the emblem. The Tracy patriarch ruffled the boy's short brown hair, smiling at him fondly, before moving across to Tin-Tin. The Malaysian girl blushed, her eyes shining as he squeezed her shoulder gently.

Alan blinked, glancing over to where the other members of International Rescue were standing. Six grinning faces looked back at him, Gordon letting out a muffled snort at his younger brother's shocked expression. Then a figure moved in front of Alan, blocking his view of the other men. He blinked up at his father's smiling face as Jeff reached out to attach the pin to his shirt.

"No short cuts, Alan," his father stated, putting both hands on Alan's shoulders. "You earned it." Jeff stepped back and smiled at the three teenagers. "You all did."

Running his fingers over the pin, his attention focused on the intricate design of the object attached to his shirt, Alan swallowed heavily. This smooth, metallic surface felt cool to the touch, and it glinted slightly as it caught the light. This pin was more than just a pin. It wasn't just an empty symbol. He'd done it. He was finally a member of the team. Alan blinked, the enormity of what had just happened suddenly slapping him in the face.

"Holy cow!"

Laughter broke out, and Alan was suddenly surrounded by his older brothers, being pulled into fierce hugs, his hair being ruffled repeatedly as the cheerful congratulatory comments rolled around him. The grin on his face widened to infinite proportions as he gave Fermat a high-five from where he stood crushed within Virgil's embrace. Right now, he was the happiest teenager on the planet.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys!" Scott said suddenly, and all heads turned towards him, Virgil's arms loosening their hold and allowing Alan to breathe once again. The pilot grinned at Alan, Tin-Tin and Fermat, his cobalt-blue eyes sparkling in mischief. "We've forgotten to properly welcome the squirts into the club."

"Oh no you don't!" Jenny protested, swooping in and putting a protective arm about Tin-Tin's shoulders, guiding her away from the group of males and over towards her parents, who immediately enveloped her in a two-way hug.

Scott shrugged. "Fine, she'll be spared," he remarked casually. "But the other two?" He smirked over at the young teenagers, before looking around at Andy and the assembled older Tracy brothers. "Guys, you know what to do."

Before Alan could ask what his brother was talking about, he found himself grabbed by several pairs of hands, hoisted off his feet and into the air - and thrown into the pool. He emerged gasping, laughing and splashing, seeing Fermat's wet head popping out of the water beside him. The two teenagers grinned at each other, happy beyond words. Then suddenly, Fermat's eyes widened.

"Look out!"

His cries were lost in a torrent of water as six muscular men - Thomas included - dove off the edge of the deck and into the pool.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

John squeezed his younger brother into a tight hug, ruffling the mop of blond hair as he let out a long sigh.

"Call me as often as you like, okay?" he murmured, forcing himself to step back and hold the younger Tracy away at arms-length so that he could look into the young, eager face. "You know I don't follow normal sleeping patterns. No matter what time of day it is, if you wanna call, then call."

Alan nodded, squeezing John's left arm. "Will do, Johnny."

John locked eyes with him, smiling softly. "Try not to get hurt again, okay?" he teased lightly, although Alan knew there was a real message behind the words. "I know you're clumsy, but I wouldn't wanna hafta travel all the way to New England just because you got yourself landed in hospital for the fifteenth time, okay?"

Alan frowned defensively. "It is _not_ fifteen."

Behind him, Thomas chuckled. "Sorry, kiddo, but he's right. Trust me, I'm the kinda sad person who keeps track of things like that."

Rolling his eyes, Alan shook his head, sending Thomas a mock-salute as he began to walk backwards towards Tracy One. John walked over to the rest of the group - who, having already said goodbye to the youngest Tracy, had moved back to a safe distance away from the jet.

"C'mon, Alan, we're gonna be late!" This was Fermat, who had stuck his head out of the open hatch, grinning as he beckoned for Alan to hurry up.

Waving to his gathered family, Alan turned around and jogged up the steps and into Tracy One's passenger hold, typing in the familiar four-digit sequence code that would close the hatch door. Moving over to the nearest window seat, he plopped down with a sigh and reached for his safety belt. Up in the front of the jet, he could hear his father talking and laughing with Brains as they ran the standard pre-flight checks.

The _'hiss'_ of the jet's hatch as it sealed itself shut made Alan jump, and he fumbled with the buckle on his safety belt. The noise seemed to have startled to two men in the cockpit too, because the voices came to an abrupt halt.

"We all set to go, boys?" Jeff called back, and Alan could hear the loud thrum of the jet engines as he powered them up.

In the seat on the other side of the cabin, Fermat nodded enthusiastically, setting down his hand-held games console on the seat beside him. "Y-yes, sir!"

Alan opened his mouth to respond, then paused, contemplating the question. Was he all set to go? Sure, his bags were packed and his homework was - for the first time in months - completed, but was he really 'all set'? After everything that had happened to his family, after everything they'd been through, was he honestly ready to leave them behind? At Wharton's, thousands of miles away from his father and brothers, he'd be helpless to help them if something went wrong. And now that he was finally a member of International Rescue, surely his place was here, on the island - with his brothers.

He glanced out of the window, spotting his assembled family on the other side of the spacious hanger. _But I can't stay here. If there's something I've learned recently, it's that there's more to life than being a Thunderbird. And there's more to a Thunderbird than brute strength and fearless bravery. I might be a member of the team, but Scott's right - I'm still just a kid. However much I hate to admit it, school **is** important. So I'm gonna do it the Tracy way. No short cuts. Well....at least no obvious ones_.

"Alan?" his father's voice prompted, clearly concerned by his silence. "You ready?"

Letting out a long sigh, Alan's mind flashed back to the International Rescue pin he now had hidden in his sock drawer up in his bedroom. Even if he was away from home, he was still going to be a part of the Thunderbirds team. And he always would be.

"Yeah," Alan replied, and in his heart he finally believed it to be true. "I'm ready."

_- THE END - _

* * *

**_Ta-daaaa! And thus ends 'Mending Broken Wings'. It's been fun, folks. I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter - as I always say, it's the hardest one to write for many reasons, one of them being the major worry I feel over ending it badly. So, what did you think? You like? Well, I loved writing it, so I honestly don't mind what you think. Although if you tell me that you hated it, I might just cry._**

**_Lol, only kidding._**

**_A big thank you to all my readers and reviewers, your constant support has been a great help to me. Special thanks to a number of very special people (you know who you are, 'cause I either beta for you, PM you constantly, or both). For all you reviewers who do not have a profile, I urge you to get one (please, ast, I need to thank you personally!). Honestly, I don't bite if you give me concrit. And it takes all of three minutes to set up an account, plus it's free! *poke poke* Get one!_**

**_Tee hee, no pressure. Anyway, as part of my A/N, I'm gonna give you a little notice about my future stories. As quite a number of you will know, I go to college, so my exams begin in just over a week. They're spread out over the course of four weeks (I have the BEST timetable ever!), so it's very unlikely that I'll be posting anything between now and then. However, I WILL continue to review other people's stories, plus I am still available to beta for my four lovely ladies._**

**_And, when I return, I'll have lots more brotherly fluff for you! Haha! So until I see you again, take care, keep smiling, and avoid running into trees (sound advice there from LMB, don't you think?)_**

**_Best wishes,_**

**_Little Miss Bump xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_**


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